For Love is Strong as Death
by Sakuri
Summary: Complete. Dean/Cas Sam/Gabe slash. 4 months after the apocalypse that wasn't, Sam, Cas and Gabe are brought back to life at the same time and place, leaving Sam to deal with two suddenly human angels and the fact that he can never see his brother again.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: For Love is Strong as Death

**Authoress**: Sakuri

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: Sam/Gabe, eventual Dean/Cas slash. Slight AU. Four months after the apocalypse that wasn't, Sam, Castiel and Gabriel are brought back to life at the same time and place, leaving Sam to deal with two suddenly human angels and the fact that he can never see his brother again...

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing and no one

xxx

**Sakuri**: This fic discounts Season 6 entirely. In fact, not having even seen any of it, I'd appreciate no spoilers in the comments. Thank you!

xxx

Sam woke up.

That was the first clue something had gone wrong.

He was pretty sure, somewhere in the back of his head, that one didn't get to just 'wake up' after hurling one's self into the Pit alongside two archangels intent on Earth's destruction. So, naturally, it was somewhat unexpected to blink his eyes open, only to squint them shut again against the light of a winter-white sky. He groaned and forced himself to roll over, his hand pressing into frost-stiffened grass. The presence of grass at all was a little shocking. Sam wasn't an expert or anything, but he didn't think Hell was the kind of place to have grass.

It was entirely possible he was avoiding the bigger issues at hand here.

"Dean?" The name came automatically to his lips, his brother always the first thing he looked to in any situation. And Dean had been the very last thing he'd seen before falling, what felt like mere moments ago. Dean should be _here_.

But he wasn't, Sam knew instinctively, feeling his stomach twist. Looking around, he realised he wasn't even in Stull anymore. There was no cemetery, no Impala, no Dean. There was, in fact, _nothing _for as far as he could see but fields silvered with frost and mist.

_Crap_, he thought eloquently.

It wasn't the strangest thing that had ever happened – not by a long shot – so it was mostly a matter of habit that had him hauling himself to his feet, dusting himself down as he went. Still, even waking up alone in the freezing wilderness seemed far too good to be true when the alternative was Hell, so he couldn't really help but wait nervously for the other shoe to drop.

He didn't have to wait long.

He turned around on the spot, wondering vaguely which direction would be the best to start walking in, when his eyes suddenly caught sight of some flash of colour other than the relentless silver-green.

And Christ, Sam would know that shade of tan anywhere.

He stumbled forward without conscious thought, slip-sliding down a grassy slope towards the blessedly familiar figure of Castiel. It was, admittedly, slightly less reassuring to realise the angel wasn't moving, was in fact looking about as comatose as the time he'd pushed his angelic powers to their very limits. His limbs were sprawled haphazardly around him, as though his strings had been cut and he'd just crumpled. The grass around him was free of frost, maybe even a little scorched closest to the angel's body. But probably the strangest aspect of the whole scene was the randomly placed and rather mundane looking travel bag lying beside him.

Dismissing that for the moment, however, Sam cursed quietly as he knelt down next to the angel. He suffered the sudden, intense memory of Lucifer's cold fury, snapping his fingers while Sam screamed inside his own head and Castiel exploded in a red shower of gore. Sam very nearly recoiled as the vision pressed heavy behind his eyes, but he forced himself to reach out and shake the angel's shoulder instead.

"Cas! Cas, c'mon man, Dean'll kill me if I let you slip into a coma or freeze to death or something..." He didn't give voice to the fact that Dean might kill him anyway, having already watched Sam make a fine paste of his not-quite-boyfriend.

Sam was getting to the point where he was seriously ready to freak the fuck out just thinking about it all when Cas finally deigned to wake up. The angel stirred uneasily, scrunching up his face in a manner his stoic features usually didn't allow, then blinked dazedly up at Sam.

That lasted all of two seconds, and then Castiel was scrambling away from him so fast Sam barely had time to react. Cas looked wild-eyed, and Sam half expected an angel sword to come flying at him any second now.

"Woah! Cas! It's me!" He threw up his hands in what he hoped was a placating gesture, or possibly just abject surrender. "No Lucifer, I swear. Just me."

The angel's blue eyes didn't get any less intent as he tilted his head to the side a fraction, considering. "Sam?"

"Yeah. Yeah, Cas, it's me."

Castiel glanced over his shoulder fleetingly, as if reluctant to take his watchful, wary stare away from Sam for too long. "...Where are we?"

"Was kinda hoping you could tell _me _that, actually."

"I... am not certain," he admitted after a few long moments of thought. "I can't quite seem to get my bearings."

Sam reached up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Okay. Right. Well, are we even on Earth, do you know?" Considering the circumstances, it was a perfectly valid question.

"I believe so, yes. How we were returned here, however..."

Sam opened his mouth to respond – to ask one of the countless questions buzzing in his head, perhaps – but he didn't get the chance. Someone else spoke over him.

"Oh, you have _got _to be kidding me..."

Both he and Cas turned sharply, looking up at the crest of the hill Sam had previously descended. Standing there was one of the last people either might have expected to see.

Gabriel looked thoroughly nonplussed as he moved towards them, and more than a little bedraggled. "I knew it," the archangel proclaimed scathingly. "I knew something like this would happen if I got involved. I died, didn't I?"

"Uhm..." Sam answered, helpfully.

Gabriel just nodded like that explained everything. "Figures. My own fault, really, associating with Winchesters." His amber eyes flashed with something like accusation, which Sam thought was a little unfair, before the archangel glanced around with feigned disinterest. "Speaking of, where _is _your lesser half?"

"He's –" But Sam had to cut off abruptly, because the truth was he had _no idea _where Dean was. Hell, he had no idea where _they _were at this moment in time. He looked helplessly at Castiel, only to see his own bemusement reflected in blue eyes.

Gabriel took this as his cue to let out a noise of utter scorn. "Oh, come _on_! You're not telling me that of all of us, _Dean 'Deathwish' Winchester _was the only one to survive the apocalypse! How is that even _fair_?"

"Shut up, Gabriel," Sam snapped automatically, annoyed. "Look, do you have any idea what's going on here?"

The smaller angel only shrugged. "Nope. Last thing I remember was Luci sticking a sword through my guts – which, by the way, hurt like a _bitch_. So would one of you chuckleheads like to fill me in on what I missed?"

Sam didn't have the patience or the inclination to give an in-depth description of exactly how downhill things had gone after that, so he said simply, "I said yes to the Devil." After pausing just long enough for Gabriel to gape incredulously at him, he added, "Then I threw myself into the Pit and dragged both your brothers with me. Woke up here about five minutes ago."

Gabriel, for the first time ever, looked truly stunned. He opened his mouth but seemingly couldn't bring himself to say anything.

Sam turned his back on him, addressing Cas instead. "Okay. So. We're alive. ...Right? I mean, we seem pretty alive..."

"It would seem a reasonable conclusion. Perhaps... Perhaps my Father decided to restore those of us who died by Lucifer's hand."

Behind him, Gabriel let out an inelegant snort. "You better _hope _that's what's going on, little bro, because I swear to Dad, if someone's sold their soul yet again, I will be _very angry_. I, for one, am not doing all this shit over again."

Sam winced, secretly hoping against hope that that wasn't the case. He was _almost _completely certain that Dean wouldn't do something that stupid a second time. After all, Dean had made him a promise. Sam had made his brother swear up and down that if he lived through the final battle he'd go back to Lisa and Ben and finally have the Apple Pie life he deserved. Dean had _promised_, and no matter how much of a thoughtless jerk he could be sometimes, Dean had never in his life intentionally broken a promise to his little brother. Sam didn't think he'd start now, and that meant Dean couldn't possibly have anything to do with their abrupt reappearance in the world, because right now Dean was living it up in suburbia with his ready-made family and his shot at normality and his... and...

Cold abruptly settled in Sam's stomach as he realised something.

He looked at Cas, blinking in shock at his revelation. "Dude, we can't go back."

The angel cocked his head. "Go back where, Sam?"

He raised a hand to run anxiously through his hair, distress finally breaking through the numb surrealism of the whole predicament. "To Dean. Cas, God... He's _happy_. He's got Lisa and... and a _kid_. We can't just turn up and drag him back into this fucked up life all over again."

"Oh here it comes," Gabriel scoffed from the sidelines, checking his none-existent watch. "The patented Winchester Angst, right on schedule. And you've only been alive for ten whole minutes, Sammy. New record!"

He was largely ignored.

Castiel frowned disapprovingly. "Your brother would want to know you're safe, Sam. You know that. To allow him to go on believing –"

"No. Stop." He held up a hand, took a breath. "Cas, think about it. Dean... He deserves this. You _know _he deserves this, after everything he's done. He finally has a _normal life_, he's _safe_, he's with a woman he _loves_. I don't know about you, but I'm not going to be the one who takes that away from him."

It was a low blow and Sam knew it as he watched the angel's face completely shut down at mention of Dean being in love with someone. Sam didn't care. He had to put a quick stop to the angel fluttering off and crash landing back into his brother's domestic bliss, and he'd do it by any means necessary.

Castiel hunched his shoulders and straightened his spine and, at last, nodded once. "Yes. Of course. I was being... inconsiderate."

Gabriel rolled his eyes, unimpressed by the whole performance. "...Uh huh. Anyway, much as I've enjoyed this little catch-up, I think I'll be on my way now. People to see and things to do now that I'm back from the dead. Heck, you two have done this before, you know how it is." He grinned crookedly, then snapped his fingers loudly in the winter silence.

Everyone waited.

After a few long seconds the mischievous expression dropped from Gabriel's face and he snapped again. Still nothing happened.

"Uhm, Gabr–"

"Shut up," the archangel interrupted, too busy glaring at the hand that was still snapping with increasing desperation.

Sighing, Sam left him to it as he turned to Cas. "How're your angel powers feeling? Can you fly?"

Castiel closed his eyes serenely, looking vaguely statue-like with his absolute stillness. It was surreal counterpoint to the background hysterics Gabriel was currently having, his frantic snapping having devolved into claps and curse words violent enough to make even Sam wince.

Eventually Castiel opened his eyes again. "I cannot. I... feel very much like I did when I woke up in the hospital."

Sam blinked. "You're human again?"

"...Hopefully it will prove a temporary condition."

The human sighed for the second time. "Perfect." He took yet another look around, considering his options.

He had no idea how long they'd all been dead. It could be minutes, months or years. Fuck, for all he knew it could be god damn _centuries_. That'd be just typical.

He had no idea where he was or even, if he was honest, where he was supposed to _go_. Wasn't like he had anywhere to call 'home' other than the Impala and wherever Dean was – and they were both, for previously mentioned reasons, out of bounds. He supposed there was Bobby's, maybe. Or he could just start from scratch, find his way to the nearest town or city and just pick up where he'd left off – only, y'know, without his brother.

"Why the fuck would He do this to me?" Gabriel suddenly shrieked, his furious incredulity rending the frigid air.

And that was another thing Sam had no idea about. Here he was in the company of two suddenly powerless angels who may or may not be stuck like that, at least one of whom had _no fucking clue _about how to be human. What the hell was he supposed to do with that? Take them _with _him? Okay, Castiel he could deal with. He might be Dean's personal angel but it wasn't like he and Sam weren't also friends – after a fashion, anyway. He could get along with Cas. The angel might be nerdy and angsty and sometimes he might get a little bug-eyed when he did his whole Super Serious Angel Business routine, but he was still _Cas_. Sam kind of owed him.

But Gabriel? _Seriously_?

Gabriel, who was busy throwing the world's biggest hissy fit right there in front of them without a trace of shame.

Sam had to look away, because some things were just embarrassing. His eyes landed instead on the randomly placed travel bag that had been lying next to Castiel. With a frown, he crouched down next to it.

It took a moment, but when recognition came, he blinked in surprise. It was the exact same bag he'd had with him back before he'd... well, died. The exact same bag he'd hauled in and out of the Impala's trunk and into a thousand motel rooms. He yanked the zipper open and peered inside, strangely bewildered to find his own mundane possessions. The laptop, one spare pair of jeans, a number of shirts and hoodies, some fraudulent credit cards that probably weren't safe to use anymore, and Ruby's knife.

"...The hell?"

"It would seem our Father has seen fit to provide for you upon your return," Castiel observed from where he was hovering at Sam's shoulder.

Sam snorted and wondered why God hadn't seen fit to drop them all off somewhere inhabited, instead, or why He hadn't given the angels back their powers, or even, hell, _why He hadn't just stopped the Apocalypse before they'd all __**died**__. _It seemed to Sam that if God really was responsible for their mass resurrection, He was doing a half-assed job of it.

But that might be the disillusionment talking.

He shouldered the bag with a huff, glancing askance at his not-so-angelic companions. "So. Any preference on which way we're headed?"

xxx

It turned out they were in Wisconsin, of all places. The damn Cheese State. God had a _stupid _sense of humour.

Sam stole the first car they came across.

(As it happened, they came across it only after a two hour trek that was, all things considered, better left unmentioned. Suffice to say that if he ever again had to listen to Gabriel bitch about something as mundane as _walking _being beneath the dignity of angels, since they _should _just be able to snap their fingers and BAMF their way halfway around the globe if they felt like – well it would be an eternity too soon.)

He settled for physically hauling Gabriel into the backseat of their newly liberated vehicle – not at all above using his size advantage while the archangel was without his superpowers – kicking the door shut with perhaps more violence than was necessary, and storming around to take his seat behind the wheel. Cas had shotgun, and after taking one careful sidelong glance at the fixed expression Sam wore, didn't even comment on the immorality of grand theft auto.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: For Love is Strong as Death

**Authoress**: Sakuri

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: Sam/Gabe, eventual Dean/Cas slash. Slight AU. Four months after the apocalypse that wasn't, Sam, Castiel and Gabriel are brought back to life at the same time and place, leaving Sam to deal with two suddenly human angels and the fact that he can never see his brother again...

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing and no one

xxx

Dean had once sheepishly confessed that he'd taken Castiel to a brothel, of all places, and that he'd tried to get the angel drunk while there, buying generous quantities of any alcohol Cas had deigned to drink – only to find it had done jack shit to his sobriety. Sam might have considered the tale an exaggeration, that weird habit Dean had of bitching enthusiastically about angelic freakishness while secretly sort of being impressed by it – he had, after all, once seen for himself Castiel stumbling into their motel room hung over and still drunk. But he also remembered Jo and Ellen laughing incredulously as they'd sworn up and down that Cas had done a full line of shots without batting an eyelid. Sam had eventually hypothesised that angels _could _become intoxicated, on occasion, but only if and when they applied some serious _effort _to the task.

So it was... jarring, to say the least, to see Castiel hunched dejectedly into his trenchcoat after only one beer. His forearms were braced heavily on the bar and he was staring, unblinking and uninterested, at the rows of coloured bottles which lined the opposite wall. Apparently Castiel was a morose drunk, and he was doing nothing at all to improve Sam's already dark mood. For the most part, he was doing his best to ignore the sulking presence on his left, but that only left him with Gabriel on the other side, and oddly enough the hedonistic archangel-cum-pagan-god was not proving to be the fabulous company his infamous reputation might suggest. He was currently scowling into a fruity red concoction of a drink that even Sam had been embarrassed to purchase.

They'd stopped in the first town they'd come to, at the first bar they'd driven past, and Sam had spent two hours hustling cash at the pool tables while the angels watched like two abandoned puppies. He'd felt Dean's absence like a missing limb, constantly out of joint without the scripted banter that usually accompanied their cons, and he'd played only long enough to earn enough money for a motel room and then given in to the temptation to take the edge off things with a beer or three before they left. So what if he was self-medicating; he figured alcohol had to be healthier than demon blood. Besides, he was newly back from the dead, _again_, without his brother or the slightest trace of familiarity, except for two dependant angels who unnerved him at the best of times. Someone could just damn well cut him some slack, thank you very much.

But as if to purposely thwart him, the archangel suddenly slapped a hand down on the bar. "Oh, for the love of– I think I need to pee _again_! How do you humans have time to do _anything_ but constantly pass disgustingbodily fluids?"

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose hard, eyes squeezed shut. "Gabriel, please... _please _shut up." It had been bad enough the first time, when he'd actually had to graphically explain to an otherworldly celestial being exactly how the human digestive system worked, and the etiquette involved in dealing with it.

"This is ridiculous," was the only response he got, hissed directly into ear, because apparently Castiel wasn't the only angel with no clear concept of personal space. "I did everything He could have wanted. I was a card carrying member of your stupid Team Free Will! Alright, _fine_, so I was a little late to the game, but I mean..." He broke off for a moment, taking an angry sip of his sparkly drink. "Even slumming it down here I was still doing my _job_, you know? Unlike some I could mention. Is it too much to ask for – oh I don't know – maybe a little _dignity _in death?"

Sam glared at him, annoyed. "You really think that little of us that you'd rather be dead than human?"

"Oh, don't go getting your panties in a twist. All the angels you've met, you want to lecture _me _on superiority? No, Sammy boy, I happen to _like _your strange little race – for the most part. But that doesn't mean I want to be _one of you_." He looked down at his own hand in disgust, like he could actually see the humanity on him.

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a dismissive snort from Castiel. He and Gabriel blinked, unaccustomed to any third party input to the almost constant sniping that had been going on since they'd all woken up that morning. They both looked at him expectantly.

Castiel seemed surprised by their sudden attention, halfway through lifting another beer to his mouth.

"Got something to say, bro?"

"No, Gabriel. Please feel free to continue discussing your deep aversion to being human, despite spending the past several centuries, perhaps millennia, obsessively submerging yourself in their cultures and lifestyles, pretending to be one of them –"

"Woah, woah, wait up! I was pretending to be their _god_, not one of _them_!" Gabriel was visibly bristling, but it seemed there was something missing from his show of pique. Maybe it was that, usually, when he was at his archangel – or even trickster – best, Sam could half imagine power gathered in close around him, invisible wings held high above his head. Now, though, with Gabriel so startlingly human, he just looked ludicrously like a pissed off short guy holding a girly drink. It made Sam want to smirk a little, amused to see Gabriel shift his shoulders like he was trying to resettle ruffled feathers. "I'll have you know I'd make a terrible human, anyway, which is why I never tried to _be _one."

Castiel, as poker faced as ever but nowhere near as focused behind the eyes, shrugged distractedly. "You made a terrible angel, too, if it helps."

Sam immediately scoffed a sharp and inappropriate laugh into the back of his hand, too shocked to do anything else.

Gabriel just gaped, struck wordless for a rare moment. "..._Excuse _me? What's that supposed to mean? And also: _mean_!"

The younger angel took a drink while he considered his response. "After Lucifer and his elect departed Heaven, you were among the first angels to willingly Fall to Earth. You refused to take up the considerable responsibilities of an _archangel _while our home was in chaos. Instead you've spent the time since then impersonating not only humans and common tricksters, but the pagan god Loki himself – a title to which you have no right."

"Uhm, Cas...?" Sam interjected hesitantly, fully aware that Gabriel's fingers were twitching around his glass like they wanted nothing more than to snap a thunderbolt into existence that would leave Castiel nothing but a smear on the barstool. "I think it's time to call it a night."

Gabriel, however, ignored his efforts at diplomacy. "Oh, well if _that _isn't just the pot calling the kettle Fallen!"

"I'm not familiar with that idiom–"

"It means you're a whinging little hypocrite, _brother_, because I distinctly remember you shucking _your _responsibilities, disobeying _your _orders, all on the word of a human. Dean Winchester said jump and you were already in the air before you could think to ask how high, right?"

"At least my defiance was not born of cowardice. You, Gabriel, were one of the greatest among us, and you chose to hide yourself away rather than do your duty, spend your time in self-indulgence and denial rather than–"

"Hey, I was still doing what I was supposed to, even as a trickster. Delivering justice and all that–"

"Your 'justice' was petty and out of proportion and mostly for your own entertainment. So yes, Gabriel, I personally believe you make a terrible angel. But it would seem you were never very far from human."

Gabriel jerked as if he'd been slapped, and Sam knew it really was time to intervene. What had been a vaguely amusing spat between siblings was quickly turning into Castiel going for his brother's throat, and Sam had no idea what had gotten into him. This wasn't Cas thoughtlessly referring to him as an abomination, this was _active hostility_.

He stood up, placing his larger frame between the two while he dug in his pockets for cash. "Okay, definitely time to go. Why don't we just–"

Gabriel leaned around him, expression deadly calm. "You are out of line, Castiel."

The other angel hitched a shoulder, also standing. "One way or another, Gabriel, you are no longer my superior." And then, without another word, he turned and headed for the door. Sam really hoped he was going to wait in the car for them and not just disappear melodramatically. That was all they needed to finish the night off nicely: driving round with the windows rolled down, calling for Castiel like he was a lost pet.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, banishing the mental image and chancing a look at Gabriel. The archangel was rigid in his seat, glaring at nothing in particular, and for a confusing moment Sam almost felt sorry for him.

"Look... Cas doesn't... He's just worried. I think he misses Dean." Sam could sympathise.

Gabriel, though, shot him an amber eyed look of fury. "I think he wants to _fuck _Dean," the archangel countered viciously. "And I think he's mad because _you_ told him he couldn't go running into your brother's open arms. That doesn't give him the right to take it out on _me_."

Sam sighed and bowed his head in defeat as yet another angel stalked past him. Oh yeah. This was going to be _awesome_.

xxx

When they finally found a motel they could afford with what was left of the money, it turned out Gabriel didn't know how to sleep, to Sam's utter exasperated amazement. They were in a room with two queens, which Sam had generously surrendered to the angels while he took the couch, and Gabriel still hadn't mastered the trick by the time it had gone half one in the morning. He'd moved on to keeping Sam awake as well by speaking at random intervals, not even bothering to whisper.

"This is boring. You seriously just lie here doing nothing for eight whole hours every night? _Why_?"

"Shut up, you'll wake Cas." He rolled over, thumping a thin pillow in frustration. He'd caught sight of a newspaper in the lobby when they'd first checked in. It was early December, about four months after he'd died. He wondered if that meant he'd been in Hell for forty years, like Dean. He had no idea, remembered Stull literally as if it had happened yesterday. Probably lucky, all things considered.

"Hey Sammy?"

Four months that Dean would have been living with Lisa and Ben, making a life for himself. It'd be Christmas soon. He'd probably be getting them presents. Real presents, ones he'd actually paid more than a dollar at a gas station for. He wouldn't have to steal toys for Ben like he had for Sam. He'd–

"_Sam_!"

"..._What_."

"Oh, were you doing the sleeping thing? Sorry. Just wondering what the plan for tomorrow is."

"The plan is research," he answered shortly. Because he had two human angels on his hands, and the sooner he figured out how to give them back the power to disappear from his life, the better.

"Uh huh. And you really think it'll be as easy as surfing a few web pages, do you? Not a lot known about angels, kid, and there's even less known about _resurrected suddenly human angels_."

He sighed loudly. "I realise it's not going to be easy, Gabriel. Now just... _try _to go to sleep, please."

There was a brief bout of quiet, during which Sam lay listening to Castiel quietly snuffle into his pillow. It didn't last long.

"Alright, look. You know I'm the last person to sing his praises, but maybe now would be a good time to rethink your policy on involving your brother."

"What do you care if I talk to Dean?"

Gabriel rolled over restlessly, propped up on one elbow to peer at him in the darkness. "Because the brothers Winchester deal with this sort of thing every damn Tuesday, and forgive me for thinking we could use the help! Not like either you or Castiel are going to get your heads in the game until you see him, and I would very much like to have the use of my wings again some time this century!"

Sam rolled his eyes. He should have known the archangel was only being self-serving. "This has happened to Cas before. He says it's like needing your batteries recharged. It's temporary."

"And did he ever _get _his batteries recharged?"

Sam opened his mouth to snap a reply, and then stopped. He hadn't, had he? Cas had still been all but human when he'd followed them to Stull. He'd died human and been brought back the same way. "...Huh."

Gabriel's eyes narrowed and he flopped back down onto the mattress. "Great."

They considered this in silence for a while, and for the first time Sam wondered warily what he was going to do with them if this was permanent. He didn't even know what he was going to do with himself. Keep hunting was the instinctive answer, but taking Cas and Gabriel with him? Cas, at least, had done the human thing before, and Dean had made sure to show him the basics in defending himself – but Gabriel? Gabriel might once have been Heaven's greatest weapon, but currently he didn't even know how to handle the normal human needs of eating and sleeping. It was seriously tempting to just drop him off somewhere with someone who had the time and energy to teach him, but that seemed kind of jerky, and despite every awful thing he'd done to them as the trickster, Gabriel _had _been a sort of unofficial member of Team Free Will, and he _had _pretty much died for them. Teaching him dietary requirements and cures for insomnia was probably the least he could do.

So hunting was out, at least for the moment. Maybe after he'd trained them up a bit, given a few self-defence lessons, but not right now. What did that leave? He could take them to Bobby's. At the very least, the old hunter would just love having access to their combined encyclopaedic knowledge of anything and everything supernatural. But Bobby would also probably call Dean, no matter what promises Sam extracted from him, and even on the off chance he didn't, word would inevitably go round the other hunters who used Bobby as a contact and eventually get back to Dean. So no. Bobby's wasn't an option either.

"Psst, Sam!"

"Jesus Christ – _what_, Gabriel?"

"...No, seriously, we're just supposed to _lie _here?"

Sam threw his pillow at him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title**: For Love is Strong as Death

**Authoress**: Sakuri

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: Sam/Gabe, eventual Dean/Cas slash. Slight AU. Four months after the apocalypse that wasn't, Sam, Castiel and Gabriel are brought back to life at the same time and place, leaving Sam to deal with two suddenly human angels and the fact that he can never see his brother again...

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing and no one

**Sakuri**: Biblical quotation taken from the Song of Solomon, and the source of the title.

xxx

Morning was a debacle.

Castiel had a hangover, was nauseas and ill-tempered from the moment he woke up. Gabriel, unsurprisingly, was sleep deprived. There was only the one shower between three of them, with only Sam having any clear idea of how to use it, and no toothbrushes, razors, or anything else a normal adult male needed for a morning routine. Also, they were going to be kicked out of the motel at noon, and Sam had once again run out of cash. It really said something about what his life had become that his first thought was not where he could find a job but how long another fake credit card would take to acquire.

He pick-pocketed a guy in the parking lot on their way out to the car, took the cash from the wallet before handing it in as lost property to the motel clerk. Sliding back into the driver's seat newly subsidised, he jumped slightly when Gabriel leaned over his shoulder, hair still wet from the shower and dripping cold water across the back of Sam's neck.

"Well that was certainly one of your cooler moments. Little five-finger-discount, Sammy?"

Sam glared at him in the rear-view mirror. "It wasn't 'cool', it was... necessary." He supposed it wasn't exactly smart to set a bad example for a rebellious archangel who really didn't need one, and wondered desperately if it was at all possible to convince Gabriel to do as he said, not as he did.

Next to him, Castiel quietly buckled his seatbelt, smoothing it down over his rumpled trenchcoat. He was looking more dishevelled than ever since he'd had to redress himself without the use of angelic powers, and Sam suddenly considered what he was going to do about new clothes for them.

Oh he was so not cut out for this.

Dean would be, if he'd been with them. The knowledge made him want to laugh semi-hysterically. Who'd have thought? Dean was supposed to be the irresponsible one, the fighter, the swaggering James Dean wannabe with a sawed-off and a rosary. That was why they let Sam do all the talking to family members and the comforting of witnesses. But Dean was also the one who'd done this before, or at least something close to it. He'd practically raised Sam, and taking care of people was what he did best, never mind that he'd deny it heatedly if he ever heard it phrased like that. Point was, he'd know what to do with two brand new humans.

Sucked that they couldn't ask him.

"Sam?"

"Huh?" He blinked himself back to attention, turning to find Castiel peering at him. "What?"

"I asked where we were going."

"Oh." He thought about it for a moment. "Uh. Is there anywhere _you _guys think we should go?"

Gabriel tapped him on the shoulder. "Take me to Vegas."

"You're not going to Vegas and I'm not your chauffeur. Cas?"

"I believe you and your brother would customarily begin by acquiring breakfast?"

Sam huffed a laugh. "Well, yeah. But I was thinking more long-term."

"Ah."

"Look. I don't want to start making all the decisions for you, is all."

Castiel turned his face to the window. "Does it matter? We have no destination, no objective. No knowledge of how to live like humans. As things stand, you are really the only one qualified to make decisions."

Sam stared at him, concerned by the despondent note in the angel's voice. He opened his mouth to say something possibly reassuring, but was spoken over.

"Hey, speak for yourself," Gabriel complained from the backseat. "As you so delicately pointed out last night, _one of us _has a little experience –"

Sam scoffed incredulously, twisting around to deliver a sceptical look. "Your 'experience' consists solely of eating too many sweets, watching too much TV, and starring in the most disturbing porno I've ever been forced to look at – thanks for that, by the way."

The archangel adopted an expression of bemused innocence. "What? You mean real life doesn't work like that?"

Half amused, Sam shook his head as he started the car and reversed. "Fine. Breakfast and research, if no one has any objections."

"I have objections."

"Yours don't count."

The archangel began to kick the back of his seat.

xxx

Being human officially sucked. It seemed to Gabriel that when you actually had to live it as opposed to just imitating it, you missed out on all the best parts.

He only half believed Sam when he said a constant excess of sugar wasn't a plausible diet. Sure, Gabriel was peripherally aware that real humans regularly ate other foods and that there was probably a good reason for that, but personally he just didn't see the appeal. Nor did he see the appeal in this whole sleep craze that Sam insisted was so necessary. He'd finally managed about two hours of unconsciousness in the motel last night, and had woken up feeling heavy and sluggish and dull-witted, his vessel aching in a thousand different places and ways. Gabriel had to marvel that humans could _survive _whole nights of sleep, if a mere two hours felt like being hit by a truck. He certainly wasn't going to be trying his hand at it again any time soon.

Every one of his senses felt muted. They were dependant on the capabilities of his vessel, now, without angelic grace to transcend the flesh. He could only see what was right in front of him, instead of glancing casually through time and space whenever the mood took him. He couldn't hear _anything_, and it turned out vessels were pathetically lacking in physical strength when they didn't have phenomenal cosmic powers running through them. For the first time ever he was made conscious of his shorter stature, and it could be... disconcerting, to enter a room and realise everybody present had a physical advantage over him, even if only temporarily. As they spent the day passing through bustling diners and busy libraries and yet another overcrowded bar, he found himself starting to hover warily next to the man-mountain that was the youngest Winchester, only to curse himself violently whenever he realised what he was doing.

And by the end of the day, not a thing had been accomplished in terms of returning them to former glory.

They were checked into yet another motel a couple of towns over, this one just as tacky as the first. Gabriel, personally, didn't have anything per se _against_ 'tacky' as a décor, but this one was just plain unhygienic, as well. And he had to start worrying about that sort of thing, these days. In all honesty, he hadn't seen why they couldn't have stayed put, but Sam insisted they keep moving – apparently for no other reason than habit, since, as Castiel had so bleakly put it, it wasn't like any of them had purpose or destination these days. The three of them had abruptly become surplus.

Sam had gone out under the pretence of bringing back food, although Gabriel suspected he really just wanted a little alone time. That was fine, the archangel thought to himself as he sauntered out of the bathroom. He'd been waiting all day for the opportunity to have a private conversation with his brother.

Castiel was sitting stiffly on the edge of the far bed, his back to Gabriel and a book in his lap. When Gabriel bounced down onto the mattress behind him and peeked over his shoulder, he could see it was a Bible that had been on the bedside table, and that his brother was currently scrutinising the Song of Solomon. He snorted, amused.

"Good little angels aren't supposed to go around reading filth like that. It's practically porn, you know." He sprawled out on his back, one knee accidentally on purpose connecting with the other's lower back.

"Then it is good that I am no longer an angel." Blue eyes cast an irritated look down at him, before softening somewhat. "And the passage is not pornography. It is an expression of love and devotion."

Gabriel rolled his eyes, unimpressed. "Jeez, you're just thrill a minute, aren't you? Remind me again how you _ever _got along with Winchester..."

Castiel gave him a wounded look, and Gabriel spent a moment debating whether or not to feel bad. Then he remembered he was still holding a grudge against Castiel's attack on him back at the bar, and decided fair was only fair.

"Dean and I share a... _shared _a profound bond."

Silently, the archangel pretended to gag. "Okay, just so you know, I'm saying this as a guy who's eaten nothing but processed sugar for the past hundred years: your disgusting epic love affair is giving me cavities."

Unless he was imagining it, the corner of Castiel's mouth twitched briefly upwards in what might have been amusement. "It was not a love affair, Gabriel."

"Might as well have been..."

His brother tilted his head to a ridiculous angle, eyes squinted in obvious incomprehension.

Exasperated, Gabriel sat up and scooted so that they sat more or less side by side. "Can't believe I'm about to have this conversation... Alright, _fine_. You love him, right?"

Castiel immediately tensed, his spine visibly straightening. "I love all of our Father's creations –"

"Oh no, no, no. We can just skip the politically correct answer, thanks, as I'd like to get this over with so I can start pretending it didn't happen. So. You love Winchester, more than an obedient angel of the Lord should, some would say."

"We... share a unique history." His gaze stayed fixedly on the Bible he held, studiously avoiding Gabriel while his fingertips absently traced the edges of lines. "I have held his soul and raised it from purgatory, rebuilt him body and mind. We rebelled against Heaven together, fought back Hell. Visited a den of iniquity. Such experiences have perhaps made us closer than is normal, but there is no... We are not in love."

"...Uh huh. Look, I don't have all the time in the world here, so let's just skip straight past denial and on to acceptance, hm?" Gabriel gingerly patted him on the shoulder and attempted an encouraging smile. He wasn't entirely certain it worked.

Castiel sighed, shrugging him off. "Is there a reason you're suddenly so determined to convince me of my apparent love for a human I'm never going to see again?"

The archangel picked idly at a stain on his jeans, thinking. In fairness, Castiel was probably justified in being sceptical of his motives. Gabriel wasn't well known for his altruism – and now was no exception.

Sam had dug his heels in on the matter of letting Dean know they were all alive again. He'd gone and convinced himself that his brother was off enjoying some parody of suburban bliss, which couldn't possibly be touched by even a trace of supernatural for fear it would shatter on contact. Now, there were two problems with this line of thinking as far as Gabriel was concerned. One; no way in hell was Winchester the settling down type, whether Sam was willing to admit it or not. Two; it wasn't going to help _at all _with turning Gabriel back into an angel. In fact, it was proving kind of detrimental.

They'd spent the entire day _attempting _to research the matter, and while he hadn't exactly been expecting to make speedy progress, he _would _have appreciated Sam's – or hell, even _Castiel's _– full attention. But with Deano's absence a great big looming distraction, he wasn't even going to get that – which meant that Gabriel was _never _going to get his wings back, which in turn meant he was going to spend the rest of his existence choking down repulsive diner food and riding around in the back of stolen cars. No, the sooner they dragged Winchester back into the folds of Team Free Will, the sooner everybody was happy again and could start concentrating on what was really important around here: fixing Gabriel.

But he'd pulled out every persuasive trick in his arsenal to try and convince Sam of this reasoning, and been thoroughly ignored for his efforts. Sam didn't trust him; barely liked him; was only tolerating him because he _pitied _him. There was no way he was going to heed any advice Gabriel deigned to give him.

So Gabriel needed an ally.

And Castiel wanted to return to Winchester maybe more than anyone. He just needed to admit it.

"I'm a romantic at heart," he said at last, hoping he could sell it.

"Gabriel –"

"And hey, you're family. Don't get me wrong, as a little brother you're kind of a sanctimonious pain in my ass, but..." He waved a hand vaguely, searching for the type of caring-sharing sentiment people said in situations like this. He came up blank, so quickly switched to a different tactic. "Let me ask you something: if you had a chance to say one thing to him, what would it be?" Castiel promptly opened his mouth to answer, but Gabriel held up a finger to forestall him. "And don't go giving me something 'normal' and 'appropriate'. I don't care about what you think a human would say, or even what you think Deano would want to hear – I'm asking what _you_, Fallen angel of the freaking Lord, would want to say if you ever saw him again."

This time, Castiel didn't respond for a long time, just sat there preternaturally still, blue eyes moving again and again across the words of the Song. He was thinking, probably. It was completely possible his brother had never before had to consider anything of a personal nature he might wish to communicate.

Gabriel waited him out with gritted teeth.

Eventually, Castiel let out a breath. "I would say..." He hesitated, one finger tracing carefully across the words of the passage in front of him, and when he spoke again it was an intonation. "_'Set me as a seal upon thine heart, As a seal upon thine arm: For love is strong as death.'_"

Valiantly, the archangel resisted his first instinct, which was to laugh until his ribs ached at the thought of how Winchester would react to _that_ little declaration. Oh, but it was so very Castiel: pious and melodramatic and utterly earnest. He supposed he'd asked for as much, but that didn't make it any less funny. It reminded him why he happened to like Castiel a damn sight more than he liked most of his other siblings.

"I think you just proved what I'm saying, bro," he managed to say instead, with an impressive lack of sniggering. "You're head over heels."

Castiel smiled bitterly, glancing across at him. "It hardly matters. As Sam says, Dean has a life without us now. And even if he didn't have Lisa Braedon, he would not, I think, look on me in quite the same manner."

"You'd be surprised..." Gabriel muttered, rubbing an eyebrow tiredly. Louder, he added, "You don't always have to listen to what Sam says, you know. Let's face it: nice kid, but he doesn't exactly have a history of impeccable judgement. Could be wrong on this, too."

"Sam knows his brother very well..."

Gabriel rolled his eyes, leaning forward. "Yeah? He ever _held his soul_? No. He hasn't. _You _have. And you _know _Winchester would want the two of you back if he knew you were alive –"

"Gabriel. Please."

He sighed, deciding it was time to make a tactical retreat. He'd let the thought take root, and return to press the issue soon enough.

He clapped Castiel hard on the back, bouncing to his feet. "Yeah, okay. Should probably stop the girl-talk anyway, before we feel the need to braid each other's hair or something."

Castiel squinted up at him with genuine perplexity. "...Why would we braid each other's hair?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Title**: For Love is Strong as Death

**Authoress**: Sakuri

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: Sam/Gabe, eventual Dean/Cas slash. Slight AU. Four months after the apocalypse that wasn't, Sam, Castiel and Gabriel are brought back to life at the same time and place, leaving Sam to deal with two suddenly human angels and the fact that he can never see his brother again...

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing and no one

xxx

A week passed and they'd moved on to Illinois, meandering southwards without haste.

Sam had somehow managed to acquire a new counterfeit credit card during that time, and had proceeded to go on a Winchester-themed shopping spree. The first thing he bought was some junk-heap of a car, presumably to assuage his guilt over stealing the last one, which had been left politely by the side of the road before they'd scarpered over state lines. The new thing was a battered black and chrome monstrosity that looked suspiciously like an Impala and really wasn't fooling anyone, but Gabriel had so far refrained from comment.

After that came rock salt by the bagful, and a whole new arsenal of weapons. Sam had sworn pretty emphatically that they weren't actually going to _need _said weapons, since he wasn't taking them anywhere near anything that even looked like a hunt, but it seemed to reassure the kid to know they were stowed away in the false bottom of the car's trunk, or tucked out of sight about his person. Gabriel privately theorized that for a Winchester to rest at all easy, it was necessary to have at least ten means of committing homicide within arm's reach at any given moment.

What bemused him was that he couldn't quite decide if that was sad, funny, or vaguely reassuring.

They bought clothes at a thrift store, since Gabriel could no longer zap in a new wardrobe and Castiel's polyester suit really wasn't holding up without instant-freshness angel powers. Gabriel simply picked out the type of things he usually wore and was done with, finding it a menial task he had little patience for, and Sam did the same whenever they actually came across anything in big enough sizes to fit him. It had to be admitted, however, that there was far more entertainment to be found for the both of them in dressing Cas.

Gabriel immediately wanted to put him in one of the many lurid Hawaiian shirts which lined the racks, but Sam vetoed the idea, spoilsport that he was. His mouth did twitch, though, with obvious and poorly concealed amusement at the thought. Gabriel grinned up at him, enjoying the novelty of a shared joke.

They ended up just getting him black and grey T-shirts and some jeans. Not quite as fun as Hawaiian shirts or the red bellbottoms Gabriel had tried to trick him into wearing, but still surreal enough on his uptight little brother that he was satisfied. Boots and an army surplus jacket completed the outfit, and Sam thought he looked pretty good for the change, completely unaware that he was an echo of another Castiel of another time.

He started to teach both angels the basics of driving, out on empty stretches of highway where they couldn't possibly crash into anything – which turned out to be a pretty good idea when Cas proved a little too heavy-handed with the steering and promptly put them in a ditch at the side of the road. He apologised profusely, and Sam said it was okay, it was fine, desperately trying to remember exactly how an eighteen year old Dean had taught _him_, so that maybe he could repeat the trick. Gabriel, thankfully, proved more of a natural, though not by much. At the very least he could keep them going in a straight line whenever he bothered to concentrate long enough.

During the days they continued to research as best they could, looking into both their sudden and unexplained resurrection and the angels' ongoing mortality, but in all honesty there was so very little to go on. The internet was full of false leads and speculation, the small town libraries were worse than useless, and Sam no longer had any contacts in the hunting world – especially any who knew anything about this level of weird.

At night they were boring.

They flipped coins and drew straws for who got to sleep on the couch – or the floor, if the motel in which they were staying was particularly cheap. They played card games, gambling for laptop rights or choice of TV channel. When Sam won, he made them sit through documentaries (partly because Dean wasn't here to judge him, but mostly to annoy Gabriel). When the archangel won, he managed to traumatise Cas by introducing him to porn. One evening, they played Scrabble. Sam held his own at first, until he mistakenly agreed that foreign languages were permissible, thinking his own fluent knowledge of Latin and Spanish would prove an advantage, only to have both angels thoroughly thrash him in Enochian.

In truth, Sam didn't really mind the boredom. He kind of thought they'd earned the _right _to boredom after everything they'd done. Even bickering with Gabriel, which had become a continuous and absentminded habit, had lost its sharp edge of antagonism. Oh, it wasn't like he was _happy_ – none of them were, by any stretch of the imagination – but he'd fallen into a routine, and if it wasn't good it was at least comfortable.

And then Sam stumbled across a hunt.

xxx

The sound of the key turning in the lock woke Gabriel from the impromptu nap he'd been enjoying. As it turned out, sleep, while still a massive waste of time, had the occasional redeeming feature – one of which happened to be the dreaming. He could still feel the phantom sensations of flight as he blinked himself fully awake, confused for a moment by his own lack of momentum. He peered blurrily up at Sam as the other man entered the motel room, watching him toss his keys onto the desk without taking his eyes from the newspaper he was reading.

"Where've you been?"

"Took a walk down to the library," Sam answered distractedly, wandering past. "I wanted to see if they had anything on angel lore."

Gabriel yawned widely, resisted the urge to stretch his non-existent wings. "And?"

There was a long pause, until finally Sam seemed to realise he was expected to respond. Reluctantly, he tore his gaze away from whatever article had captured his attention. "Hm? Oh. No, there was nothing. Sorry."

The archangel waved him off, unsurprised. He wasn't exactly hoping for a breakthrough out here in Hicksville. Glancing back at the human, he frowned to see he was once again fixated by the newspaper. "What's got you so interested, anyway? Please tell me there's boobs involved, and if so, that you're willing to share."

"What? No." Mouth pinched in an expression somewhere between flustered and offended, Sam pointedly folded the paper closed and tucked it away beside his travel bag. "It was just an interesting story. Where's Cas?"

"He's out in the car, communing with the radio again."

Sam immediately slumped, letting out a worried sigh as he moved to the window to look out. "I feel bad, letting him sit out there on his own. He could have just used my laptop if he wanted to listen to music..."

Gabriel resettled himself lazily, legs crossed at the ankles and one arm folded behind his head. "Yeah, I was already using it at the time."

"What for?"

"Casa Erotica."

"Wh– Gabriel!" Sam turned on him incredulously, bitchface in full effect. "You made him go _outside _so you could watch _porn_? God, you're worse than Dea–" He cut himself off with audible effort, choking awkwardly on the name. Then, after a moment, he seemed to recover himself and jabbed an authoritative finger in Gabriel's direction, grabbing for his keys with the other hand. "I'm going to go get him. Next time, let him use the damn laptop. I'm serious."

"Oh, well, if you're _serious_..."

The door slammed on the tail end of Gabriel's sarcasm, leaving him to roll his eyes at an empty room. Oh, he was so utterly _bored _of everything – of being human, of both Sam and Castiel mooning about like depressed zombies, of aimlessly trailing around endless motels when there wasn't even a _reason _for living like this. It was all getting a little ridiculous.

Sitting up, he swiped loose bangs of hair from his eyes and cast around for some kind of distraction that would hopefully keep him sane for another hour. After a moment or two, his gaze landed on the discarded newspaper Sam had brought in with him, stashed half out of sight.

He cocked a curious eyebrow at it.

xxx

It was just beginning to get dark out as Sam made his way through the motel parking lot towards where he could see Cas sitting in the car. The angel had taken an almost obsessive interest in listening to music now that he actually had the time – nothing _but _god damn time – to sit and do something other than search for god or try to stop the apocalypse. This was the fourth time in the last week that he'd disappeared off on his own, and each time either Sam or Gabriel had been forced to come out to the car and coax him back inside – although in Gabriel's case it wasn't so much 'coaxing' as 'being so entirely obnoxious that Cas had no choice but to seek sanctuary back in the motel'. Well. Whatever worked.

Castiel had taken the driver's side to work the radio, so Sam quietly slid into the passenger's, shutting the car door behind him. For a second, it was exactly like getting into the Impala, his brother's god-awful cock rock blasting from the speakers.

He aimed a sceptical smile over in Cas' direction. "What, you're into Metallica now?" Yesterday it had been Fall Out Boy.

"This music is... familiar."

Sam made a contemplative sound, absently tapping his fingers in time with the well known song. Then he coughed once, uncomfortable. "...Dean ever make you listen to this stuff?"

Castiel didn't look up from his intent study of his frayed jacket sleeve. "Once. I travelled with him, when the two of you were separated. I had no taste for it."

"Yeah. I kinda hated it too."

Neither of them made any effort to turn it off.

"Gabriel has been trying to convince me that you're wrong," Cas said after a while. "That we should go back."

Sam shook his head, not particularly surprised to hear that the ex-trickster had gone behind his back, although he was starting to wonder why Gabriel was so damn persistent on the matter. He hesitated, glancing over at Castiel with reluctant curiosity. He didn't want to be having this conversation. "You, uh... You think he's right?"

The angel gave a huff of bitter laughter. "I think he's trying to manipulate me into agreeing with him, because for some reason he believes we would make faster progress in restoring our Grace if we were to reunite with your brother. I think his opinion on the matter is therefore biased." He drew one leg up onto the seat, picking idly at a small tear in his jeans. "But then so is mine. So is yours."

Sam turned away, looking out of the car window into the growing darkness. Sometimes he hated Castiel's propensity for brutal honesty.

"I miss him too, Cas," he said at last, almost spitting the words in his sudden need to get them out. "It's not that I don't _want_, more than anything–"

The back door of the car abruptly opened, startling them both, and Sam cleared his throat to loosen the sudden tightness there. He turned to see Gabriel crawling across the back seat with newspaper clutched in hand, and winced automatically at the sight, knowing what was about to come even before the archangel furiously brandished the pages at him.

"You ever planning on mentioning this, kiddo?"

"No," he answered sullenly, reaching out to turn the radio down.

Castiel twisted in his seat to curiously eye the paper. "What is it?"

"It's a haunting! Here, in this crap-hole of a town! And instead of doing something remotely interesting like _hunting a ghost_, we're sat on our asses doing nothing!"

"A ghost?"

"It doesn't matter what it is," Sam snapped, looking between them. "I told you, we're not getting involved in a hunt while you're both like this."

"Sam–"

"_No_." He slapped one hand against the dashboard. "By some miracle we're alive again. I don't know about you, but I'm in no rush to change that."

Castiel glared disapprovingly. "You're a hunter."

He glared right back. "And you're not."

"We're soldiers of the–"

"You're _angels_. Or you're _supposed _to be, rather." He gestured helplessly. "Look, guys, no offence, but right now you have no powers, no training, no experience. If we went up against anything like this you'd get yourselves killed in the first five minutes, you'd get _me _killed–"

"So instead we're just going to drive on by," Gabriel surmised scornfully, expansive hand gestures and all. "Let some other clueless bastards get themselves killed instead–"

Sam kneeled on the seat and turned around, aware that he was looming over the smaller man even in the cramped space of the car. "And since when are _you_ all gung-ho about hunting things and saving people? What's the ulterior motive _this_ time?"

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. "Hey, you two may not have a very high opinion of me, but keep in mind, _children_, that I've been upholding justice in one way or another since before _either _of you were even in existence!"

Against his will Sam flushed at the reprimand, glad that the gloom of the car kept the reaction mostly hidden. He forgot, sometimes, exactly what Gabriel was (besides just a pain in his ass) and it made him feel young and ignorant to be so bluntly reminded – neither of which he'd been in a very long time. Gabriel's stare was unwavering, like he knew exactly what he'd done, so Sam turned quickly away and resettled himself facing forward.

"Whatever," he gritted out eventually. "Look, you two are my responsibility until you get your angel mojo back, and I said we're _not _going on a hunt." He had no delusions over why they suddenly thought this such a good idea. Gabriel was more bored than righteous, and Cas more righteous than sensible. But he still wanted to yell at them that didn't they realise Dean wasn't here to play leader and brother and carer and stupid, unthinking hero anymore? He wasn't here to look after angels who were never meant to experience this kind of vulnerability. They were stuck with only Sam for the job, and he was poorly qualified enough without purposely taking them smack bang into the middle of real danger.

But Cas and Gabriel only exchanged an unimpressed glance through the rear-view mirror, obvious and pointed. The archangel leaned forward over Sam's shoulder and spoke in a perfectly level voice. "Okay, first off? We're not your _anything_, Sammy-boy. Certainly not your 'responsibility'–"

Sam maybe lost it a little bit then. Before he was even consciously aware of his own actions, he found himself slamming out of the car, yanking the back door almost off its squeaky hinges, and gesturing expectantly at a somewhat surprised Gabriel. "Well, guess what? It's just _fine _with me if you want to take off. No one's keeping you here, trust me." In the privacy of his own mind, Sam asked himself what the Jesus fuck he thought he was saying.

Gabriel blinked up at him from the backseat, looking faintly betrayed. "...You're ditching me?"

Sam gritted his teeth and shifted his weight, instantly feeling annoyed and guilty. He didn't back down, though, just stepped aside and gestured out into the night. "Look, you can go get yourself killed again, if that's what you want. I won't stop you. But don't you dare ask me to help you do it."

The archangel sat rigid, clearly furious. The newspaper was crumbled in his hands. After a moment or two, he cast a defiant look past Sam like he was actually considering getting out of the car and walking away – unknowingly sending a jolt of unrestrained panic through the human – before slowly, resentfully relaxing back against the seat.

"Yeah," Sam snapped, too relieved to care how snide his voice sounded. "Didn't think so." He slammed the door and turned on his heel without another word, suddenly anxious to get away. From behind him came the sound of the car window being roughly wound down.

"Yanno what?" Gabriel screamed after him, voice ringing loud and shrill across the parking lot. "It comes as a complete and utter _shock _that you were supposed to be the Antichrist!"

Scandalised, Sam shot a narrow-eyed glare over his shoulder, lip curling, before stalking away into the motel.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title**: For Love is Strong as Death

**Authoress**: Sakuri

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: Sam/Gabe, eventual Dean/Cas slash. Slight AU. Four months after the apocalypse that wasn't, Sam, Castiel and Gabriel are brought back to life at the same time and place, leaving Sam to deal with two suddenly human angels and the fact that he can never see his brother again...

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing and no one

Xxx

Castiel was anything but an expert on the subtleties of emotion and the things that went unsaid between individuals, but even he could tell that something had changed between his brother and Sam. Where previously they had sniped and insulted and bickered until well after Castiel longed to shut them up by any means possible, now there was nothing but frosty silence in the car as Sam drove them far away from the town with the hunt in it. He'd wasted no time at all in getting them moving that morning, hurling bags into the car at the crack of dawn and rousing them awake with short tempered barks. Castiel knew he felt guilty for ignoring the presence of a ghost, but that he was at least equally eager to remove Gabriel from the temptation of danger. What surprised him – perhaps unfairly so – was that it had apparently been the latter instinct to win out.

In truth, Castiel wasn't certain how he felt about this turn of events. He did agree with his brother that Sam was behaving over-protectively, even to the point of being patronising, and such an attitude would hardly prove helpful to any of them in the long run. But it was also... nice, to see someone else concerned for Gabriel's welfare, since it was a phenomenon that occurred all too rarely. Gabriel, while he had undoubtedly loved their older brothers fiercely, and even a number of the younger angels like Castiel, had still forever seemed... alone. Different. He'd always been truly righteous in a way that even Michael couldn't manage; possessed a rebellious streak not unlike Lucifer's, though without the malice; and everything Castiel had said about his affinity with humanity wasn't entirely untrue just because it had been said in anger. In all honesty, his flight from Heaven hadn't really come as the shock and scandal it probably should have been. He was isolate in their family, made more so by an independence not common in angels. It must kill him, Castiel supposed with sudden understanding, to suddenly be so dependent on someone else. Perhaps that, then, was the cause of the brittle atmosphere currently permeating the car.

He glanced over his shoulder, spent a moment contemplating Gabriel where he was sprawled across the backseat, jabbing spitefully at the keys of the laptop as he played Spider Solitaire. Castiel frowned a little, then turned his attention to Sam, whose grip on the steering wheel was white-knuckled and who kept viciously stamping the acceleration at the smallest provocation.

Castiel didn't have as deep an understanding of Sam, so it was harder to determine the exact nature of his anger – especially since humans in general continued to remain a mystery to him. He had to wonder why Sam's reaction to the thought of hunting with them had been so strongly negative, though. True, they were more vulnerable as humans than they'd ever been as angels – but surely Sam had spent most of his life hunting alongside other humans? He'd been raised as a soldier who'd simply had to accept the occasional casualty of war – they all had – so why such a visceral objection now?

Had Dean been with them, Castiel would have asked him to explain the inconsistency. And Dean, in all likelihood, would say something like, _It's Samantha's time of the month_, or perhaps, _Sam's just being a bitch. Ignore him. _Castiel would in turn allow his mouth to twitch with the slightest trace of reluctant amusement, and Dean would grin back at him; blinding, conspiratorial.

Sam suddenly jerked the car to the right in a fit of silent temper, and the image of Dean was jostled from his head.

xxx

Castiel read a lot, these days. He'd started out reading things from the internet, since it was the most readily available material, and had already found – and been bemused by – the incestuous stories surrounding the Winchester brothers. But apart from making him feel vaguely uncomfortable, they'd also depressed him a little, those fictional versions of Sam and Dean that could never do justice to the reality, so he'd quickly abandoned the literature of the internet in favour of paperback books from libraries and charity shops. Sam helped him pick out what he said were considered 'classics', and Castiel had already read through _Hamlet_, two _Lord of the Rings _books, and _Wuthering Heights_ (which was thus far his favourite, because while it was certainly bleak and brutal storytelling, it was the only book he'd come across that so strongly advocated love transcending death). When Gabriel discovered his hobby he'd demanded only that he read something called _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_, and said nothing more on the subject. Castiel had promised solemnly that he would.

He was, as it happened, just returning from the local book store, having asked Sam to drive him. His brother had still been sulking all morning, so they'd left him to his own devices in the motel room while they were out. But now as they returned to the room, tossing down keys and coats and carrier bags, Castiel glanced curiously between the two empty beds, the blank TV screen, the open bathroom door and the abandoned laptop, frowning. Sam, next to him, perhaps having grown used to the awkward silences that had cropped up between himself and Gabriel of late, had not yet noticed anything amiss as he busied himself emptying the grocery bag he'd just brought in from the car.

Castiel cleared his throat hesitantly. "Sam? I don't wish to alarm you, but is it possible that this town also contains a hunt you were unaware of?"

The human looked up at him, slanted eyes squinting slightly in confusion. "I don't think so. I scoured all the papers the first day we got here. This place is clean, man. Why?"

"...Gabriel appears to be gone."

xxx

It took Sam less than ten minutes to thoroughly destroy their motel room in his effort to determine Gabriel was not, in fact, playing an elaborate and poorly conceived game of hide and go seek. Castiel stood by and watched, at first trying to inject a voice of reason every now and then, but soon concluding that it was perhaps better to let Sam take out his frustrations tearing apart decor than tearing apart an ex-archangel when they eventually found him.

By the time Sam stalked from the bathroom (having finished trashing the main living area several minutes ago), Castiel was perched waiting for him on the wooden chair by the door, absently clutching his new copy of _Dorian Gray _as though fearful of losing it to the other's whirlwind search.

Sam stood for a moment in the middle of the room, looking somewhat at a loss. His hair was in disarray, appearing even more ridiculous than usual, and if Castiel wasn't entirely mistaken, a small muscle had begun to twitch periodically in his jaw.

"I am a _recovering addict_," Sam hissed furiously under his breath, rolling his shoulders in a familiar mannerism that made Castiel wince slightly. "Who _does _this to a recovering addict?"

Ignoring the question, which he assumed was rhetorical, Castiel rose to his feet. "I took the time to study the newspaper while you were... busy. I couldn't find any reference to anything suspicious or supernatural in the area, so perhaps the situation is not as bad as it appears."

"Not bad? I've _lost _your brother, Cas!"

"You are not his babysitter." The reply emerged more snappish than he'd intended, and he took a calming breath before continuing. "Gabriel is an adult. Relatively. And while his actions are often... petulant, he has always been quite self-sufficient. In all likelihood he has simply walked into town to entertain himself and will return when he grows bored. It really shouldn't take all that long–"

"Oh, so – what? You think we should just sit around here and _wait_?"

"I–"

"Yeah, not happening, Cas. Even if he's not stupid enough – please _God _– to go hunting on his own, anything could happen. He could... I don't even know, get hit by a fucking _car _or something!" He flinched involuntarily as he experienced a vivid and unnerving flash of memory: Dean being hurled through the air back at Mystery Spot, the squeal of tires, his brother's bodily fluids staining the road.

In all honesty, there'd probably be some kind of karmic justice in Gabriel meeting his end the same way, though it didn't stop Sam from violently recoiling at the mere thought.

Shaking the image from his head, he was met instead by Castiel's unimpressed blue stare. "I think you're being irrational," the angel informed him flatly.

Annoyed, Sam grabbed for his keys and jacket. "Think what you like. I'm going to go look for him."

"Sam..."

"Don't, Cas. Just don't." He checked his pockets. "Look, stay here, okay? If he comes back before I do, call me."

Castiel sighed in defeat as the youngest Winchester stormed out of the room without another word. A moment or two later he heard their car screech from its place in the parking lot outside and rumble away back towards town.

Alone, he gazed around at his ruined surroundings, resenting, for a second, his brother's thoughtlessness and Sam's reckless, overbearing protection.

Dean would say, _Family, right? What're you gonna do? _

Repeating this advice to himself, he carefully resumed his seat in the rickety wooden chair and opened his book.

xxx

As it turned out, Sam apparently knew next to nothing about where Gabriel would choose to go for fun. Hardly surprising, he thought bitterly to himself as he left yet another bar with no sign of the archangel. Not like he knew a whole lot about Gabriel in _any _respects, really. He wondered if anyone did.

It had been hours since they'd found the motel room empty, and Sam was seriously starting to freak the hell out. He'd checked every bar, diner, cafe and goddamn sweet shop he'd driven past, to no avail. Even doubled back and checked a few of them twice. He'd resorted to stalking frantically through supermarket aisles, library stacks, rows of _arcade games _for Christ's sake (he'd seriously thought he'd been onto something with that last one). As the day drew on and he grew ever more anxious, having called Cas twice just to double-check Gabriel hadn't already returned to the motel of his own volition and twice receiving the same negative answer, he'd even driven to the bus terminal a few miles further along the highway, incredulously wondering if the archangel was indeed street-smart enough to hitch himself a ride out of here. He didn't see Gabriel there, however, and at last could think of nothing else to do but admit defeat.

He sat in the car at the edge of the road as it began to get dark, feeling weirdly stunned. His brief stint of responsibility had gone up in flames even sooner than he would have anticipated. How the hell had Dean _survived _this shit?

Once, when Sam was twelve, after an argument with Dad, he'd packed a bag with one change of clothes, a book to read, a bag of M&Ms and a knife, and then he'd slipped out of whatever motel they'd been staying in and started walking. He'd gotten a decent head start, too. Dad hadn't noticed his absence until Dean got home, at least two or three hours later, and only then had the two pretty much exploded into frantic action looking for him.

Sam winced now at the memory, wondering if this was what they'd felt like; wondering if, like him, they'd suddenly been unable to stop thinking of every monster they'd ever heard of looming out of the darkness while they weren't there to fight it off.

Alright, _fine_, so Gabriel wasn't a twelve year old runaway – the point was still valid.

It had been Dean who'd found him. Naturally. Sam had been slouching his way along a road not unlike this one, hungry and tired and with no real destination in mind, when the Impala had skidded to a halt beside him and his brother had dragged him inside by the hair. He hadn't spoken a word to Sam the entire drive back, hadn't even said anything after Dad had yelled himself hoarse and grounded Sam into the distant future. Dean hadn't forgiven him for _days_, in fact, which at the time had felt like an unprecedented eternity.

Man, he hoped Ben didn't like pulling the same kind of stupid stunts that Sam had while growing up. Dean deserved the chance to raise at least one normal kid.

Quite suddenly, his brother's absence was a visceral loss, a keen slice through his gut.

Smacking a hand against the steering wheel, he shook the moment off angrily. God, he really was a whiney little bitch sometimes. There were far more immediate matters to deal with.

Okay. So. Gabriel was gone. It had probably only been a matter of time, all things considered. He couldn't exactly have forced an archangel into staying with him for much longer if Gabriel had really wanted to leave. And hey, maybe his powers had finally regenerated themselves, and things were back to normal. That was... That was good. Great, even. Couldn't exactly begrudge him testing out his wings after so long grounded, right? And yeah, a fucking _goodbye note _wouldn't have gone amiss, but Gabriel probably had higher priorities if he was back to full angel power. Responsibilities he should be getting back to. _Other _people he'd abandoned at one point or another. Jackass.

Sam snorted with vague self-disgust and started the engine. _Christ_ but he was pathetic. If he wasn't busy obsessing over Gabriel – who was perfectly free to leave whenever he damn well liked, actually, especially after Sam had all but _told _him to the last time they'd spoken – then he was moping in a truly spectacular fashion over his brother's well-deserved happiness. It was stupid, and selfish, and childish, and hadn't he wasted enough of his life on those kind of vices? He was going to stop. Right now. He was going to go back to the motel with Cas (who'd probably get his angel powers back soon, too, and be gone in the next few days) and he wasn't going to spare another thought for what Dean was doing or where Gabriel was. Not one.

xxx

His promise lasted the fifteen minutes it took to drive halfway back to the motel.

He'd passed through town and back out again, and the road was mostly empty between here and his destination. There was, however, one gaudy little building to one side of the road. He'd passed by it earlier thinking it closed, but now a flickering neon sign was lit up over the doorway. He slowed the car to a crawl as he approached, dawning suspicion turning his expression thunderous.

It was a bar, of sorts; rougher looking than the usual type he'd frequented with the angels. It sort of reminded him of the Roadhouse, only... nastier. Sam, when he ducked inside, was for once utterly grateful for his own considerable height and stature, because the entire place looked to be full of thugs and bikers who watched him balefully as he edged his way towards the bar. This was a stupid idea. If Gabriel ever _had_ set foot in here, they'd have kicked his pintsized ass out two minutes later. Still, he supposed, no harm in asking. Hopefully.

The bartender was a dark haired woman with scarlet lipstick and cleavage that left little to the imagination. She gave him an amused once-over when he waved awkwardly, trying to get her attention.

"What's up, handsome?"

"Uhm, hey. I'm, uh, looking for a guy..."

One pencilled eyebrow quirked upwards. "Wrong kinda place, honey."

"No! No, not..." He sighed at her exasperatedly when he realised she was laughing at him, then held a hand to about mid-chest level on himself. "He's about this tall, long hair, loud and really annoying?"

To his astonishment, recognition immediately lit up her face. "You mean the little guy, Gabe, right?"

He gaped at her. "...You've seen him?"

She pointed over his shoulder. "Right over there. He's a real hit."

Sam was no longer listening. He spun on his heel, scouring the crowd, and sure enough there was Gabriel at one of the back tables. Relief swept through him – and promptly came to a screeching halt when he looked a little closer. There was Gabriel, alright, at a table surrounded by men who made _Sam _look slight in comparison, and the archangel positively breakable. Playing _poker_.

"You've gotta be kidding me..."

He could hear Gabriel telling the tail end of a joke as he drew nearer, one that made his fellow players erupt into gruff, raucous laughter. Sam rolled his eyes. He didn't have the patience for introductions or niceties as he came to a stop behind the archangel's chair, instead leaning down so he could start straight in by hissing directly into Gabriel's ear, "What the hell are you doing?"

Startled, Gabriel spun around and stared up at him for long seconds, before exclaiming, "Sammy!" He had the nerve to sound genuinely delighted. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," Sam growled quietly, barely resisting the urge to physically haul the other up out of his seat and out to the car like an errant child. "I've been looking for you _all_ _day_."

"Oh?" It was a distracted mutter of acknowledgement as Gabriel busied himself studying the hand he'd just been dealt. "Why, what's up?"

"Seriously? Seriously!" Sam gave into temptation and grasped the shoulder of his jacket, dragging him around to meet his glare. "You can't just _disappear_–!"

"Hey, hey!" Gabriel batted at him ineffectively, while around the table the other card players leered and chuckled. "Hands off the merchandise!"

Sam wanted to hit him. Throttle him. If he hadn't just spent hours enduring his own increasingly wild speculations of Gabriel already being dead – _again _– he'd have wanted to _murder _him. As it was, he considered it a remarkable feat of self-control that he spat only, "Come on. We're going."

The archangel twitched an amused eyebrow in a manner strongly reminiscent of the bartender, before turning dismissively away from Sam and back to his game. "'Fraid not, kiddo. Kind of in the middle of something here."

"It wasn't a _question_–"

"Anyway. How about you quit bitching and show a little gratitude?" Gabriel glanced back at him and grinned wickedly. "I'm earning us a _living_."

"You're..." At last, Sam's eyes fell upon the stack of cash, coins and one expensive wristwatch near Gabriel's elbow. "You're _winning_?"

And alright, maybe that was a stupid question. This was, after all, the _Trickster_. He won every game he ever decided to try his hand at, one way or another.

Gabriel just winked. "Course I am."

Oh, this was so not good.

"Seriously. Just... take what you've got and let's go." He was trying for calm and diplomatic, but wasn't entirely certain he succeeded.

The archangel waved him off anyway. "And deprive these gentlemen of the chance to make up their losses? Sam. Really. I'm shocked." The men around the table made approving noises, clinking glasses together and shuffling cards. Sam pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly.

"Oh, look at that!" Gabriel suddenly crowed, slapping his cards down with a flourish. "Aces full."

There was a collective groan of annoyance as Gabriel reached happily for his stack of winnings, leaning forward over the table. To Sam, the next moment seemed to transpire in slow-motion. The archangel's jacket opened slightly with the movement, and out onto the table tumbled two or three playing cards. Gabriel froze, his hands still outstretched towards the money, as every gaze in the vicinity snapped straight towards them and darkened ominously.

"...Huh," Gabriel stage-whispered nervously in Sam's direction. "Cheating was a whole lot easier when I could _actually _make the cards disappear, yanno?"

Sam didn't get the chance to reply. The guy closest to Gabriel abruptly rose to his feet with a snarl of anger, massive hands clamping down on the archangel's shoulders and yanking him out of his chair. Gabriel yelped, struggling ineffectively and looking every inch the helpless, stupidly fragile human he was. Sam, later, wouldn't remember making his next decision. He simply reacted to the sight, an entire day of imaging Gabriel in danger determining his actions before he'd ever had a hope of imposing reason on them.

His fist shot out with unerring accuracy, connecting with the guy's nose. There was a sickening crunch, a bellow of outrage, and Gabriel was dropped and momentarily forgotten.

Sam shook his hand out and braced himself as everyone else at the table surged furiously to their feet and the rest of the bar let out a deafening roar of encouragement at the prospect of a fight. He had a split second to register Gabriel's golden eyes, wide and astonished, and then he had to duck as the first swing came at him.

xxx

As established, Castiel was not particularly well versed with emotion – especially feeling it himself. He had, in the past, known... _shades _of emotion, he supposed. Usually, they'd been elicited most strongly when dealing with the human (or human-like) individuals with whom he'd surrounded himself at the time; Sam, Dean, Anna and Gabriel had all, at one point or another, succeeded in making him feel _something_, making him act as he would not normally.

But that was while he himself had been an angel. While he would not dismiss his first encounters with emotion, they had been far different experiences to what things were like right now.

For humans, he'd come to discover in the past few hours, there was something almost _physical _about emotions; a biological phenomena. Castiel had been blissfully unaware that he was missing out on the jackrabbit heartbeat of panic, the tension headache of stress, the restlessness that gradually overtook him as the whole day passed and still he was alone. He had just called Sam's cell phone three times in rapid succession with no answer, and now 'panic' was beginning to ease its way insistently into 'fear'.

There was, at that moment, another number typed out on the small screen of his own phone; a number known by heart and one he had promised Sam and himself he would never use again. He hadn't dialled yet, but he braced himself to do just that.

Dean would know what to do if their brothers really were in trouble.

The phone abruptly lit up in his hand, vibrating loudly and managing to startle him badly enough that he almost dropped it. An unfamiliar number was displayed across the screen. Warily, Castiel accepted it and raised the phone to his ear, listening.

"_Cas? Cas. You there?" _

"Sam."

"_Hey! Good. Okay, listen. I found Gabriel." _

Castiel took a moment to process the sudden sting of sharp relief. "That's... I'm glad. Will you both be back soon?" He remembered, unbidden, the unknown number that had flashed up on the screen. "Where are you calling from?"

"_I, uh..."_

"Sam, is Gabriel–?"

"_We've been arrested, okay?" _


	6. Chapter 6

**Title**: For Love is Strong as Death

**Authoress**: Sakuri

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: Sam/Gabe, eventual Dean/Cas slash. Slight AU. Four months after the apocalypse that wasn't, Sam, Castiel and Gabriel are brought back to life at the same time and place, leaving Sam to deal with two suddenly human angels and the fact that he can never see his brother again...

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing and no one

Xxx

Being bailed out of jail by Castiel, ex-angel of the Lord, was so very far from the proudest moment in Sam's life.

They'd been dragged in under the relatively minor charges of drunk and disorderly, and disturbing the peace. However, a search of Sam had quickly added carrying a concealed weapon to his list of offences, and Gabriel's illegal – and unfair – gambling really hadn't improved matters.

It was nearly morning by the time Castiel paid up with cash from Sam's credit card and they were free to begin walking back to the motel, the car having been impounded. It was freezing, the grass crunching under their trudging boots, and the east sky was an eerie green-blue with coming daybreak.

"So," Gabriel broke the silence after maybe half an hour. "...That happened."

"I hate you," Sam informed him without preamble, factually, as though it was a declaration he'd just been waiting to make.

Castiel sighed, and they continued walking without another word.

xxx

They moved on again almost as soon as Sam liberated the car, all of them tense and snappish and sleep deprived. Castiel shamelessly stole his brother's customary place in the back seat and promptly fell asleep there, his old trenchcoat thrown over him like a blanket and his rucksack serving as makeshift pillow. That put Gabriel up front with Sam – neither of whom were particularly pleased by such arrangements.

They went west into Iowa, Sam wanting to cross state lines in case the arrest had stirred up things with the FBI again (that would be just typical, essentially adding injury to insult). Gabriel watched the cornfields pass by through the window as they drove, bored. The radio wasn't getting reception, so he couldn't even fiddle with the stations. Occasionally, he chanced a look across the car, but only ever ended up wincing when he laid eyes on the human.

Outnumbered, Sam had taken a fair few hits in the bar last night before authorities had intervened. Now, in the unforgiving winter daylight, a dark bruise was starkly visible across one sharp cheekbone and his lower lip was split. His jaw clicked whenever he unclenched it long enough to talk, and on the steering wheel his knuckles were cut and swollen.

Gabriel, on the other hand, had escaped without a scratch.

He should have been pleased with himself, all things considered. _Would _have been, usually. Having always had a talent for avoiding blame and dodging consequences, it was something of a relief to find the skill hadn't deserted him along with his powers. But something was different, in this particular instance. There was something almost... _unsatisfying _about the whole debacle. He wondered if it was because, this time, he hadn't simply sidestepped the consequences – someone had willingly stepped in and taken them for him.

_Sam _had willingly stepped in and taken them for him.

Something unpleasant and unfamiliar twisted in his gut. Idly, he regretted eating the spicy chicken wings back at the biker bar.

He absolutely refused to acknowledge the possibility that it might be guilt.

xxx

His unease lasted the rest of the day, refusing to let him nap like Castiel was doing, or provide his usual irreverent, irrelevant chatter. He remained subdued throughout the journey, was in the same state when they finally signed into yet another room and he and Castiel watched Sam all but pass out on the first bed he stumbled into, having been running on nothing but nerves for the past two days.

Castiel shucked off his tatty army jacket, tossing it and his rucksack onto the other bed and giving Gabriel a pointed look. "If you really feel the need to cure your boredom again, I'd advise you to find a way to do it inside the building this time."

Gabriel scowled and made a hand gesture that suggested exactly what his little brother could do with his _advice_.

xxx

He couldn't sleep.

Gabriel had discovered a newfound fondness for sleep, once he'd finally figured out the trick to it. To suddenly be deprived of it was apparently yet another cruel and unusual aspect of being human. He fidgeted irritably on the worn and uncomfortable couch, a loose spring digging into his back and every movement dragging an alarming creak from the rickety piece of furniture.

At some point past midnight he admitted defeat with a loud sigh and tossed aside the blanket covering him, shivering in boxers and T-shirt. Trying to ignore the vague sense of self-disgust, he got up from the couch and crossed the room to stand beside Sam's bed, considering the human. Even in the gloom, Gabriel was keenly aware of the bruise on his face and that his split lip had bled again during the night. It wasn't like they were serious injuries – they were nothing, actually, in comparison to other blows Sam had taken over the years. Hell, they weren't even the worst injuries Gabriel was directly responsible for.

Nevertheless, he felt another inexplicable surge of guilt.

Without really thinking it through, he sat himself on the edge of Sam's bed, bouncing the mattress unnecessarily. Sam let out a breath, and without opening his eyes turned on his side, away from Gabriel. The archangel froze, unsure if that had been a coincidental movement of sleep or a pointed rebuff.

Decided it didn't really matter one way or another.

"Hey Sasquatch?" He didn't dare raise his voice above a whisper, reluctant to give what he was about to say volume or substance. He got no response anyway, which actually made things a little easier. "...Look. It's not that I'm admitting fault or anything, just so we're clear. Because I wasn't. At fault, I mean." Damn but he sucked at this. "No one asked you to jump in and play hero. I was... It would have been fine. And anyway! If you weren't such an overprotective control freak–" He cut himself off abruptly, realising he'd been hissing the words at Sam's unresponsive back and pausing to roll his eyes at himself. "You should really try to break this unfortunate trend of self-sacrifice, you realise. You'd think after dying half a dozen times that that lesson would have been drilled into your Cro-Magnon-like skull. This could be your last resurrection for all we know – although it seems unlikely, considering the Winchester tendency towards cockroach-esque immortality..." Well, now he was just getting off topic. "My _point _is... My point is you should stop worrying so much, kiddo. Me and Castiel are big boys, we've been around a while. Your well-meaning but ultimately naive attempt to play overbearing protector is starting to grate. So just... yanno... _unclench _a bit and we'll get on fine."

His hand hovered briefly over Sam's muscled shoulder as though to pat it, but after a second or two he dropped it again without touching. He kind of hoped Sam really was asleep. Gabriel _hated_ having to say thanks.

With a sigh, he got up and walked back to the couch, steadfastly refusing to glance back and find out one way or another. Consequently, he missed the glint of Sam's open eyes in the darkness, and, in the next bed over, Castiel's too.

xxx

Castiel woke the next morning with a... problem.

He'd been dreaming, fragmented and intense, mental flashes of sensation he wasn't accustomed to and couldn't remember clearly. The phenomenon wasn't exactly a new experience; he'd dreamt several times since becoming human, imaginings and muddled memories filtering through his head, leaving him disorientated whenever morning came. It was, however, the first time he'd ever been physically effected: his cheeks stinging with heat as blood cells gathered beneath the skin there, his heartbeat heavy and fast, and... lower down, everything tense. He blinked at himself – or, rather, at the foreign human vessel that had _become _himself – feeling perplexed and uncomfortable and vaguely unsatisfied.

The bathroom door opened and Sam emerged, casting him a casual glance in passing before abruptly stopping and performing a double-take. His eyes widened dramatically before darting towards the ceiling and fixing there.

"Uhm, Cas? You maybe wanna... do something about that? ...Please?"

Again the angel looked down at himself, not comprehending what was happening. He'd thrown off the coverlet some time during the night, and the thin bedsheet did little to conceal the bizarre tenting in his pyjama pants. He cocked his head at it, bemused.

Apparently noticing his confusion, Sam winced and turned away. "Oh my god, I'm so not dealing with this." He strode across the room to where Gabriel still slept and leaned down to shake him insistently awake. "C'mon, get up. Wake up."

The archangel struggled back to consciousness, trying to fend the other off. "Jeez, _what_? You wanna start talking to me again _now_?" He rubbed his eyes tiredly and yawned. "This mean you're done with the cold shoulder routine?"

Hands on hips, Sam nodded dismissively. "Yeah, sure, whatever. You're completely and totally forgiven – provided you go give your brother The Talk right the fuck now."

Gabriel turned to peer blurrily at Castiel, blinking a few times before his expression slowly lit to something wicked and gleeful. "Is that...?"

"_Yes_. So would you please just–"

"Aaw. Castiel's first morning wood. Oh, that's adorable."

"It's really not," Sam maintained, prodding Gabriel up from the couch. "Just... I don't know, talk him through it or something. I'm gonna go be... anywhere else, frankly."

True to his word, he made a prompt beeline for the door – not quite managing to escape before Gabriel called out, "Hey, he should just think about Dean. I'm sure he could figure things out from there all on his own!"

The door slammed and Gabriel turned to regard him seriously. "Alright, from now on, not another _word_ about me abandoning responsibilities, because this? Is above and beyond, little bro. _Above_. And _beyond_."

xxx

Sam came back an hour later with breakfast, pointedly not asking how the impromptu sex ed. session had gone (there were, after all, some things he just didn't need to know about). He handed Gabriel his box of pancakes and Cas his sausage McMuffin, and then hovered indecisively until the attention of both angels slowly drifted towards him.

"S'up?" Gabriel asked messily through a mouthful of syrupy cake.

"I was, uh... thinking I could teach you guys some hand-to-hand. Self-defence, yanno? If you wanted."

Gabriel stopped chewing and swallowed hard, clearly surprised. Even Castiel sat up straighter in his chair, paperback softly placed aside. "Sam?"

"I haven't changed my mind. We're not going on a hunt." He pinned them both with a look that brooked no arguments, before letting it turn wry. "But since you've proven you can still incite perfectly normal humans into trying to kill you, I figure you should at least know how to defend yourself if anything _does _come up..." He shrugged awkwardly, sheepish.

Castiel gave him the smallest of approving smiles. "I believe that would be wise."

Gabriel, however, scrambled to his feet, pancakes abandoned, as though he half expected Sam to take a swing at him there and then. "Hey, wait, let's just hang on a second. I never said anything about letting you _assault_ me."

"I'm not going to–"

"I bruise like a peach in this stupid vessel! Have you _seen _me?" He gestured incredulously down at himself – and, in all fairness, he didn't make a particularly impressive sight first thing in the morning, sleep-mussed and boxer-clad.

"I'll go gentle with you, I promise," Sam muttered, rolling his eyes. "Sorry Gabriel, but _you _said you wanted more independence. I mean–" He grinned. "–I wouldn't wanna be accused of being _overbearing_ or _overprotective_. Or anything."

The archangel swore quietly.


	7. Chapter 7

**Title**: For Love is Strong as Death

**Authoress**: Sakuri

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: Sam/Gabe, eventual Dean/Cas slash. Slight AU. Four months after the apocalypse that wasn't, Sam, Castiel and Gabriel are brought back to life at the same time and place, leaving Sam to deal with two suddenly human angels and the fact that he can never see his brother again...

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing and no one

xxx

**Sakuri**: Warning for some rather flippant remarks made about Christianity; no offence intended.

xxx

Christmas Day arrived without fanfare, which was strange, considering it was spent in the company of angels. Sam would have thought it'd be more of a big deal to them. Kind of in the job description or something.

"Today's date has no true religious significance," Castiel remarked when he mentioned as much. "It was merely picked to coincide with the Yuletide winter festival in order to ease the introduction of Christianity."

"What, so you don't like it because it's really just a pagan holiday?"

Gabriel cast him a scathing look. "Sorry – we've met, right? That honestly strike you as something I'd object to?" He shrugged. "We don't 'not like' it, anyway. We don't... _anything_ it. It's a date on a calendar we don't conform to. Who cares, yanno?"

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Huh. Okay..."

"Besides," the archangel added, words distorted around the red and white striped candy cane he was sucking on. "It's so commercialised these days."

xxx

_The Grinch _was showing that evening and they sat around the motel room watching it like some dysfunctional Christmas tableau. Cas sat on one of the beds, leaning back against the headboard and looking unusually relaxed for once. He'd borrowed one of Sam's oversized hoodies, had the sleeves tugged down over his fingers against the slight chill in the room. Socked feet emerged from the cuffs of torn jeans, rumpling the covers, and braced against his raised knees was yet another book. He was supposedly reading it, but in fact hadn't taken his eyes from the TV set in over forty minutes.

"This film has none of the traditional nativity symbolism," he commented as they watched Jim Carrey in his Grinch costume prance across Mount Crumpet. "Admittedly, much of it was generally inaccurate, but I'd thought humans seemed quite set on the theme."

Sam gave him an amused glance. He was starting to get used to the casual dismissal of Christian dogma the angels threw out so thoughtlessly. "It's based on a children's story, Cas," he explained patiently. "It's supposed to be funny and kind of surreal. And non-denominational, I guess."

"Yeah," Gabriel chimed in from across the room. "Christianity's so _yesterday_. Get with the times, bro."

The archangel had unfortunately taught himself how to use the microwave about a week ago, and ever since had proven little but a menace with it, apparently subscribing to the philosophy that anything edible tasted better when nuked. So far he'd managed to utterly destroy one microwave by searing melted chocolate across the interior and another by completely exploding a plastic covered ready-meal he'd forgotten to poke holes into. Sam, not in the mood to spend his Christmas scraping another culinary disaster from the floor or walls, had limited Gabriel to the simplest of tasks this time.

Currently, the appliance gave a beep of completion and Gabriel triumphantly and with far too much excitement extracted a bag of popcorn. "Honeybutter flavour," he proclaimed proudly as an intensely sweet smell suffused the room. He shoved a handful into his mouth, clearly happy with this success.

"Where did you even _get _that?" Sam asked bemusedly, before deciding he didn't want to know. "You're going to get fat if you keep eating sweets like you used to."

Gabriel started to wave him off, then stopped with a look of faint alarm. "You think?"

"Relax. Your girlish figure is still intact. For now."

The archangel smirked. "Damn straight." He strolled his way back to the couch Sam was sitting on, gracelessly threw himself down onto a cushion, and dropped his legs across Sam's lap, crossed at the ankle.

Nonplussed, Sam gave him a look. "You're not _that _girlish. Off."

But Gabriel ignored him, preferring instead to settle himself more comfortably into the couch and turn his attention back to the movie, occasionally tossing a sticky kernel of popcorn into the air and tilting his head back to catch it. Sam sighed in defeat, already knowing better than to waste his energy on protest, and let his hands come to rest atop the invading appendages for lack of anywhere else to put them.

He felt instantly startled, and for long moments couldn't figure out why.

At length, it occurred to him that he couldn't remember ever having touched Gabriel out of anything but anger – and even then only once or twice. Now, despite what Dean claimed, as a general rule Sam wasn't all that big on touching, but it was rare for him to _never _have made contact with a person, if only in passing. Even with Cas he had vague memories of having his hand clasped when they'd first met, or helping to steady the angel when he'd pushed his powers too far. But Gabriel...

The archangel felt strangely, jarringly human. He was loose-limbed and sprawled, kind of heavy and radiating perfectly average body heat through his thrift store jeans. He smelled like horrendously sweet popcorn and fruity shampoo from the shower; clean and male.

Flushing slightly, Sam glanced up, found Gabriel watching him. The archangel was still smirking, and as Sam blinked uncertainly back at him, he raised one eyebrow leeringly at the hand clasping his shin.

Sam let go as if burned, then struggled to conceal the involuntary movement as something else, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck and wondering faintly what the fuck had just happened. He flailed somewhat for a moment, before eventually settling on folding his arms across his chest, hands kept safely to himself this time.

Lazily, Gabriel tipped his head back and laughed, long and loud and thoroughly entertained.

xxx

And so Christmas Day departed equally unceremoniously. They didn't exchange gifts, or decorate a tree, or do much at all differently to what they'd been doing every day since their resurrection. It was, however, a turning point of sorts. They'd come to a number of small, unspoken agreements and it left them slightly more settled in each other's company.

Castiel fell asleep some time before midnight, comfortably engulfed in Sam's hoodie and snoring softly atop the covers. Sam and Gabriel remained awake most of the night, drowsily watching infomercials and pleas to call seasonal help-lines. They didn't speak often; every now and then murmuring quiet requests to pass a beer or change the channel. The TV-lit darkness was strangely intimate, almost hypnotic, and at some point during the wee hours of the morning, Sam came back to himself just long enough to take note of Gabriel's toes curled against his thigh, his own hand having moved to encircle an ankle, one finger barely brushing warm skin.

xxx

"I think I'm dying. Fuck, you ruptured something. You've killed me _again_, I don't believe this..."

Sam rolled his eyes and took a drink from his water bottle. "You're not dying, Gabriel. You just had to do a little work for the first time in your life."

Castiel, from where he was propped up against the car with his hands braced against his thighs, managed to pant, "Dean once said that without exercise... he believed I'd grow... 'flabby'."

Gabriel groaned and rolled over onto his back in the grass, one arm flung across his eyes. "I swear, if he recites one more bit of wisdom from the Gospel According to Winchester, I'm going to duct-tape him again..."

Sam snorted, unable to say he'd put much effort into stopping him.

They were out in a field in the middle of nowhere, chosen for the sole purpose of privacy while Sam attempted to teach them to fight the human way. To say the least, they weren't exactly naturals. Neither Jimmy nor the archangel's unidentified vessel had been particularly fit individuals in life, which now meant that neither were Cas or Gabriel. In fairness, Sam supposed, they _were _soldiers, as Castiel had once angrily reminded him. And they _had_ at one point known how to handle themselves skilfully and with deadly force. But that had been back when they were angels – essentially, back when they were part of a whole different existence; a whole different _species_, even. It was as if they'd come ready equipped with millennia worth of theoretical knowledge, but lacked the muscle memory, strength or stamina that usually accompanied it. It left them slow and clumsy and quick to tire, much to their mutual frustration.

Cas was still recovering from his sparring session over ten minutes ago, throughout which Gabriel had jeered and laughed as the younger angel faltered and swiftly lost the upper hand. He had, in fact, continued laughing right up until it was his turn, and Sam had at last been presented with an opportunity to make him really regret that Herpexia commercial...

Now, as Sam grinned innocently down at him, Gabriel struggled up from the prone position he'd been put in. He sat on the ground for a moment looking dazed, and then raised one hand into the air as though volunteering for something. "Okay. I'm done. I quit. I wanna be an angel again."

Laughing, Sam reached out and grabbed the waving hand, hauling the other easily to his feet. Gabriel stumbled straight into him and Sam clasped his shoulders to prop him up before turning back towards Castiel.

"So, we done here or are either of you up for another round?"

The angels shared a dark look, and without a word Castiel opened the nearest car door and retreated inside to finish catching his breath. He no longer seemed quite as impressed by the venture as he had been a few days ago when Sam had first suggested it.

Gabriel didn't just look disillusioned so much as utterly miserable. "I mean it," he insisted to no one in particular. "Being human is _awful_, why do you _do _this to yourselves?"

"Not really something we have a lot of choice in–"

"I meant _hunters_!" the archangel snapped. "Man, I have a whole new respect for you guys. Why didn't you tellme it felt like this? I'm over it, kiddo, I promise. You can keep that profession all to yourself."

He was limping slightly from where Sam had kicked the back of his knee, so, taking pity, the human reached out to hold his elbow. It earned him another quirked eyebrow, but Gabriel didn't shake off the support as they made their way over to join Cas in the car.

He did, however, comment, "You're getting awfully handsy of late."

Embarrassed at being so bluntly called out, Sam immediately released him. "Sorry. I, uh..."

Amber eyes danced mischievously. "I didn't say to _stop_."

xxx

Sam knew better than to take Gabriel's flirting seriously.

The archangel hit on most things that moved, a number of which he himself was responsible for snapping into existence. His idea of a fling was with a short-tempered goddess of _destruction_, and his suicide note took the form of a porn DVD. Hell, he'd borderline flirted with _Dean_ back when they'd first met (before the antagonism had set in), and it wasn't like this was the first time he'd thrown the odd suggestive comment Sam's way, either.

So yeah, Sam knew he couldn't take Gabriel's winks and smirks and innuendoes to heart. Honestly, he suspected it had nothing to do with him personally at all.

He'd been around enough Fallen or Falling angels to know they always eventually tried to fill up the gap where Grace should go with something else, like angelic methadone or something (and wow, _there _was knowledge he never thought he'd come to possess). With Cas it had been alcohol, and then the pain pills Dean had unthinkingly given him and which Sam had later confiscated – but other examples sprung to mind too. Anna had had her drawings; the medications they'd given her on the psych ward; the thoughtless, needy affection she'd offered Dean and even Ruby. There was Uriel with his misguided allegiance, Zachariah with his politics: the list went on.

Unfortunately, Gabriel's track record said he'd inevitably try to fill the gap with sex, and there was really no getting around that.

Nor was there any getting around the fact that Sam was the only available company unrelated to him, so of course he was going to become the target of flirtation sooner or later. But the real problem came if and when Gabriel took it a step further and actually expected Sam to be his methadone. Now, Sam was an educated, open-minded college guy, so it wasn't that he had anything per se _against _gay (angel) sex. He just didn't think it was for him, is all.

(And besides, Sam was already in enough trouble after committing the vaguely Faustian sin of fucking a demon. He didn't particularly relish the thought of well and truly cementing his place in Hell by defiling an archangel, too. Even if Gabriel was already kind of slutty.)

One way or another, it all came back to the fact that Sam really shouldn't be encouraging him just because Gabriel's humanity, the newfound physicality of it, was abruptly something fascinating to him. He didn't even know _why _it was fascinating – only that, before, taking the liberty to casually touch the archangel would have been unthinkable. Now, it wasn't. Now it was easy.

Still. That was no excuse to go about giving off the wrong signals.

Gabriel would get the idea on his own eventually, and they could keep happily to the fine Winchester tradition of Not Talking about things. After that, Sam's only problem would be keeping the archangel away from hookers – and oh _god_, Sam was going to have to teach him to use _protection_. Jesus Christ. He made a mental note to buy condoms and some kind of phallic vegetable, physically wincing at the indignity of the prospect.


	8. Chapter 8

**Title**: For Love is Strong as Death

**Authoress**: Sakuri

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: Sam/Gabe, eventual Dean/Cas slash. Slight AU. Four months after the apocalypse that wasn't, Sam, Castiel and Gabriel are brought back to life at the same time and place, leaving Sam to deal with two suddenly human angels and the fact that he can never see his brother again...

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing and no one

xxx

Even as little as a week ago, if asked to put money on the matter, Gabriel would have bet that Dean would be the more entertaining Winchester to hang out with. Sure, he might be an insolent, boneheaded, smart-mouthed jackass for the most part, but he was a jackass after Gabriel's own heart. The kind of guy he could get a drink and ogle women with, both of them comfortable in the knowledge they were simultaneously plotting to screw the other over. (There was a small chance he and Dean were far too alike to ever truly get along.)

Sam, in comparison, was easy to think uptight. He was methodical where his brother was rash and reckless, angry where Dean would be quick to deflect with humour. In all the time he'd known him, Gabriel had counted at least twenty subtle variations on the bitchface (no exaggeration) and more ways than he'd ever thought possible to inject pure exasperation into one-word utterances. He was controlling, self-righteous, and Gabriel hadn't been being entirely theatrical when he'd said Sam was like Luci. Okay, fair enough, he wouldn't go quite so far as to say Sam was in danger of going down the same dark path his Fallen brother had (at least not anymore), but yeah. There was the odd similarity. It might even go a ways to explaining how Sam had always been so effortlessly able to put Gabriel's back up. Being brought back to life, for example, while great and all, had been slightly dampened by the realisation that he'd also been made powerless and placed into the care of the one human who'd always in equal parts fascinated and infuriated him.

It was only very recently in the scheme of things he'd fully come to understand the appeal of Sam Winchester.

Kid had an understated sense of humour that tickled Gabriel, once he'd learned to appreciate it. He was sarcastic and scathing and very occasionally immature. Furthermore, to Gabriel's delighted surprise, he wasn't at all above prank wars.

This discovery was made when Gabriel, in all genuine innocence, had accidentally spilt soda across the bed Sam was supposed to be sleeping in. Like some involuntary defensive reflex, Sam had promptly put salt in his cereal. After that, Gabriel really hadn't seen any other choice but to respond by systematically microwaving the _crap_ out of Sam's stupid stash of health food and leaving it to smoulder. Sam, in turn, had spitefully cancelled his subscription to _Casa Erotica_, which was completely below the belt in all the wrong ways.

Castiel finally put a stop to the swiftly escalating war when he intercepted Gabriel trying to purchase laxatives online. Ever the voice of reason, he demanded to know how and why they'd regressed to such a hostile relationship.

Overhearing, Sam laughed like he couldn't help himself. "It's not... _really _hostility, Cas. Just pranks, yanno?"

"Signs of affection, you might say," Gabriel added, with an eyebrow wiggle that confused Castiel and made Sam glare.

His brother processed this for a second or two before asking, "You mean like the time Dean placed the... 'whoopee cushion' on my chair?" And oh, Gabriel would have paid good money to have played witness to that, or at least have the anecdote done justice.

But Sam only smiled and said, "Yeah, exactly. Just like that."

Castiel looked quietly pleased, like he'd at last found the answer to something that had been puzzling him for a while.

The small moment of nostalgia was broken when Gabriel leaned over and hissed to Sam, "Wow, your brother really needs to work on his courting techniques."

Sam just looked at him, but Gabriel didn't pick up on the irony.

xxx

There were other thing about Sam that he was starting to like, too, for all that even he could tell this was a bad idea.

Sam would bitch and bitch about Gabriel's unhealthy eating habits, and yet would invariably bring him something sweet for breakfast, toss him bags of M&Ms whenever he left a gas station, and do nothing more than frown in mild reprimand whenever Gabriel left all the vegetables on his plate untouched. Shocker: Sam was an enabler.

He was also a closeted bad-TV enthusiast, which Gabriel heartily approved of. Dean might have his little vice of _Doctor Sexy MD_, but Sam knew all the characters from _Gilmore Girls_, had watched _Stonehenge Apocalypse_ at least three times, _and _could sit through a marathon of any procedural cop show you cared to name. Not that he'd admit to any of this, of course. Gabriel had only discovered it through a process of careful experimentation, goading, and gambling for TV privileges.

Now, as a general rule, Gabriel harboured an inordinate fondness for the human female form – but that wasn't to say he was _blind _to what was in front of him, and it wasn't like he was particularly hung up on the concept of gender (most angels weren't, technically genderless themselves). And any way you sliced it, Sam was pretty damn easy on the eyes even regardless of his unfortunate lack of boobs. He had 'tall, dark and brooding' off to a fine art, and Gabriel was even quite partial to the ludicrous height difference between them. Sam was powerful by human standards, and it was strangely thrilling to feel small and dominated in the presence of that power (he'd discovered as much during their sparring match when Sam had pinned him without having to try, leading to a somewhat inappropriate physical reaction on Gabriel's part that was sadly no longer under his conscious control).

Point was, he'd _noticed_. Crushing on Sam hadn't exactly been on his To Do list at any point, but it seemed it was a little too late to do anything about it now.

xxx

It was, unfortunately, entirely possible that Gabriel had grown a little too distracted in noticing Sam. It was even possible that Sam, as well, had grown distracted in his determined effort not to _acknowledge _Gabriel noticing him. So it took a while – far longer than it should have – for either of them to become aware of the change in Castiel's demeanour.

Only gradually did it dawn on them that he'd once again grown quiet, backsliding into the same despondent silence he'd first exhibited immediately after their resurrection. He read less, and resumed being distant and standoffish, withdrawing more often to the privacy of the car and taking so much longer in the shower that for the first time Sam started considering getting them more than one room. Neither he nor Gabriel, however, really took the time they probably should have to consider the implications of such behaviour.

In fact, it took the discovery that his entire supply of painkillers was missing for Sam to realise exactly how bad things had gotten while he'd been looking the other way.

He was busy, at the time, trying to ignore Gabriel's pestering.

"Sam. Saaaam. Hey Sammy. I'm bored. We should do something tomorrow. There's gotta be some tourist traps around here somewhere. Oh, hey, let's go see the future birthplace of James T. Kirk..."

It was late evening and Sam was tired, more concerned with finding some loose change in his bag so he could go get a coke than listening to whatever the archangel was talking about this time. He unzipped the side pocket where he kept smaller possessions that were valuable or useful to have on hand, mentally cataloguing his wallet, the car keys, the room key, his phone, the roll of quarters he'd been looking for, and a handful of pens. The little bottle of pain pills that he'd stashed there only the day before, however, was conspicuously absent.

"...and you saw that last movie, right? Chris Pine was–"

"_Shit_!"

Gabriel jumped in surprise as Sam surged to his feet. "What? What's wrong?"

"They're gone. Fuck, _fuck_, where's Cas?"

"He's where he always is: out in the car. And what exactly is gone?"

Sam was already darting out of the room, snapping behind him, "The _pills _are gone, Gabriel, and let's just say your brother has a history."

"Who, _Castiel_?" Disbelieving and incredulous (and not the least bit alarmed, not at all) he followed the human out of the motel, jogging after him when Sam broke into a run across the parking lot. A distance away, he could see the car lit up from the inside, Castiel in the front seat with his head bowed, and Gabriel's newly human heart stuttered uncomfortably against his ribs.

Sam reached the car and immediately threw the door open, braced for anything – only to find Castiel apparently waiting for him, the bottle of painkillers held out expectantly between two steady fingers. "I didn't take any," the angel said quietly, without looking up.

Sam snatched them, checking them over and finding the bottle was indeed still full. He sagged in relief, smacking a hand hard against the roof of the car as all his adrenaline abruptly lost its focus. "Jesus _Christ_, Cas, what the hell?"

Gabriel caught up, bemused and faintly panicked. "Okay, someone wanna explain the deal with the intervention?"

"He has a substance abuse problem, to put it mildly," Sam shot back caustically. "Not a massive issue back when he was an _angel_, sure – but you're human right now, Cas! You could have fucking overdosed on this shit!"

"I realised that," Castiel answered calmly, finally raising his gaze to meet theirs. "That's why I refrained from consuming any, as I said. I wasn't intentionally trying to harm myself, if that's your concern."

Sam hadn't been thinking that. Not really. Not consciously. What he _had _been thinking was that Castiel had always been oddly prone to addiction and excess (the alcohol, the pills, even the goddamn _burgers_) and Sam knew first-hand how hard those types of things were to quit once started. He couldn't handle it – wouldn't have the first clue _how _to handle it – if Cas messed himself up like that while Sam was supposed to be looking out for him.

"Jeez, bro, way to scare the crap out of us..." Gabriel sounded more pissed off than anything, absently rubbing the heel of his hand against his chest.

Castiel did look contrite at that, fingers twisting in the cuffs of his jacket sleeves. "I apologise. I didn't–"

"What were you going to do? Why did you even need–?" Sam furiously cut himself off. He knew better than to expect any kind of rational answer to a question like that, remembering all too well exactly how _he'd _felt back then in the wake of Dean's death: the tempting, temporary relief Ruby's blood had offered him, his own grief and desperation so crushing he hadn't cared how obscene a habit it was, so long as it took the edge off.

He just hadn't realised Castiel was in a place like that; miserably wondered how he could have missed it.

Castiel got out of the car, slipping past Sam without meeting his eyes. "It won't happen again," was all he said by way of reassurance, and then he was walking away, back towards the motel.

Sam was left standing there at a loss, unsure what to do with all the angry exhilaration still pumping through him. He half wanted to go after Cas and physically shake some sense into him, at the same time knowing it wouldn't help in the least. This must be what it was like to have teenagers, he imagined with vague hysteria. Only these were teenagers who really did know infinitely more about the universe than he ever would – _none _of it practical.

Eventually, he sank down onto the seat Castiel had vacated, feet planted in the gravel outside the car, elbows resting heavily on his knees. "...Shit."

Gabriel hovered nearby uncertainly, hands hidden in his pockets. "You okay, kiddo?"

Sam made a cynical noise in his throat. "Not me you should be asking." He hung his head and ran fingers through his hair, pulling. "I thought he was doing okay. I mean, god knows things aren't ideal, but..."

"You're overreacting," Gabriel tried half-heartedly. "You heard him, he wasn't purposely trying–"

"But he will," Sam interrupted with quiet certainty. "He'll end up doing something stupid, even if he doesn't mean to. Trust me."

They considered this in grim silence.

At length, Gabriel sighed and said, "Listen. When I... When I Fell, it was willingly. I made a choice; got to be exactly what I wanted to be, even if no one else liked it." Sam looked up at him, grudgingly curious, so he went on. "Castiel didn't get the same choice. He Fell only because he got kicked out of Heaven by our dickwad brothers. He Fell because he was being the little angel that could, doing the right thing when no one else would step up."

"...What's your point?"

"My point is, none of that meant he ever wanted to end up human. Don't get me wrong, he loves you guys – some, admittedly, quite a bit more than others – but he's an _angel_, Sam, and he's not meant to be anything else. Me – well. In all honesty, there are worse things I could imagine than getting stuck like this – but like I said, at least I _chose _to Fall. He didn't." He let this sink in, then went for the clincher. "And let's face it: not to put too fine a point on things, but you sort of took away the one thing that could have made it better when you said he couldn't go see your stupid brother."

Sam looked stricken. "You think this is my fault?"

Gabriel shrugged reluctantly. "Just saying it like I see it, kiddo. Sorry."

"I can't take him back to Dean. I just can't. You don't get it. Giving Dean this normal life, this normal family he loves... It's the only thing I've ever been able to do for him that's really _meant _something. That... wasn't selfish. I can't take that back now."

The archangel scuffed a sneaker through the gravel. "Your call, I guess. You know my opinion on the matter."

Sam shook his head, although it looked like it pained him to do so. "I can't take him to Dean," he repeated, convincing himself. "But you're right. He needs to be an angel again, and we're not making any progress getting you guys back to normal like this. We need help."

"Oh?"

"We'll... I suppose we gotta go see Bobby. He's the only person I can think of that knows anything remotely accurate about angels." Sam bit his lip, laced his fingers together between his knees. "And clearly I'm not cut out to do this on my own, so..."

Gabriel's first instinctive reaction was satisfaction. This was a victory he'd been working towards; another step towards restoring his Grace. He'd met Robert Singer only once before, and most of that interaction had consisted of Gabriel aiming a chainsaw-wielding maniac in the old hunter's direction – but by reputation alone, he knew Bobby was probably the closest that humans would ever come to having an expert on his kind. If any human was going to figure out how to put him right – well. Sam and Bobby were his two best bets.

But he also knew Sam hadn't wanted to go back. Still didn't, judging by the look of him.

For whatever misguided reasons, Sam was convinced it'd all be for the best if he left that old life behind, went his own way and didn't impose on the people who were no doubt still grieving for him. Fucked up kid – but then he _was _a Winchester.

Gabriel sighed and stepped closer, coming to stand right in front of where Sam was hunched in the car. Without thinking about it, he reached out and brushed his hand over the human's bowed head, fingers immediately tangling themselves in the unruly mop of hair. Sam went tense, broad shoulders bunching in protest, but Gabriel ignored him. He smoothed out some of the knotted strands between his fingers and nothing more.

It could have been a come-on; a follow up to the fine groundwork he'd been busy laying for the past few days. He could have made it inappropriate very easily.

But it wasn't and he didn't. Instead, with effort, he summoned up whatever last dregs of Grace still remained in him (it was an action that might even have been entirely in his imagination; he wasn't sure) and tried to remember how to communicate it through the small gesture. Wordlessly, he offered the only comfort he could think of: the benediction of a Fallen archangel – for whatever it was worth.

Sam let out a breath, tension and protest seeping away in defeat. He turned his head as though pressing into the contact without wanting to, and Gabriel smiled slightly as he combed the longest strands back behind his ears and then withdrew, stepping away and resuming his slouched posture as if nothing had happened. Might as well let the kid ignore it if he wanted to.

They were quiet for a long time after that before the other spoke.

"If we do go back... I don't want him to tell Dean," Sam lied quietly, eyes down.

"I'll put all my considerable charms to work convincing him not to," Gabriel promised, knowing full well he'd do no such thing. Sam knew it too, though he voiced no objection. Truth was, no matter what he _said _on the matter, kid wanted more than anything for Dean to know he was back, even if it meant the demise of his brother's precious Apple Pie life. Sam just didn't want to be the one to strike the killing blow, and would be more than happy for Bobby to take on that responsibility behind his back. He'd never _admit _as much, but in that moment they both knew it.

And there was a certain cowardice there, Gabriel thought to himself; a certain selfishness. But they were the type of flaws Sam would never be without, no matter how good his intentions, and Gabriel figured he could live with that well enough, since he had them too.


	9. Chapter 9

**Title**: For Love is Strong as Death

**Authoress**: Sakuri

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: Sam/Gabe, eventual Dean/Cas slash. Slight AU. Four months after the apocalypse that wasn't, Sam, Castiel and Gabriel are brought back to life at the same time and place, leaving Sam to deal with two suddenly human angels and the fact that he can never see his brother again...

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing and no one

xxx

**Sakuri**: Some of Cas' lines lifted from 4x01.

xxx

So they packed up and left Iowa. And if both Sam and Gabriel were keeping somewhat obsessive watch over Castiel while they did so, no one mentioned it. South Dakota wasn't far, as if Sam had been subconsciously circling closer since they'd started travelling, and it was the morning of New Year's Eve by the time they passed through Sioux Falls and arrived at Bobby's place.

Sam parked the car at the very edges of the salvage yard, not wanting to set the dogs barking by driving any closer. Bobby would be shocked and sceptical to see them as it was; he didn't want to give the old hunter warning enough to shoot them before Sam had the chance to at least plead his case.

"Come on," he murmured as he got out and went to grab his bag from the trunk. "We'll walk the rest of the way."

They meandered their way through the maze of rusted out car heaps, Gabriel peering into some of them with never ending curiosity while Sam steeled himself to what he was about to do. He felt irrationally nervous, like he'd become acclimatized to their self-imposed isolation and now ending it was a much greater trial than it rightfully should have been.

But this wasn't about him, was it? Left to his own devices he wouldn't be here at all; he'd be off hunting, eager to lose himself in the fight and the chase. The only reason he _was _here doing this was for the sake of his angelic companions. He'd already dropped the ball once with Castiel; he owed it to his friend to do all he could in helping restore his Grace. Even if this didn't pan out, he had to try.

They weren't far from the house when Sam abruptly stopped walking. There across the yard he could see Bobby's heavy boots sticking out from underneath a car, tools scattered around him on the ground. Sam had almost forgotten that part; forgotten Crowley and his deals and Bobby being healed. It was a good thing – one of the only good things – worth remembering.

He ambled closer, Cas and Gabriel trailing behind him, and cleared his throat awkwardly into the quiet air, breath condensing in front of him. "...Hi."

The metallic clanking of tools cut off and Bobby dug his heels into the ground, dragging himself out from underneath the car body.

Only it wasn't Bobby.

It wasn't Bobby who rose to his feet right there in front of them, who froze midway through the motion, whose eyes were wide and green and achingly familiar, fixed unblinkingly on Sam.

Stunned, Sam all but flinched backwards from the unexpected sight of his brother, and for a prolonged moment they just stared at each other, not reacting.

Then out of nowhere a gun fucking _materialised _in Dean's hand, pointed at them with trademark unerring accuracy, and when he spoke his voice was guttural, furious. "What are you? What the fuck _are _you and what do you want?"

Sam immediately threw his arms out to the sides, both in a gesture of harmlessness and the automatic instinct to try and shield the vulnerable angels accompanying him. "Woah, Dean!"

But his brother just bore down on them, stalking forward with a murderous expression. The hand that held the gun outstretched before him was rock steady, even while his mouth twitched like he was something feral. "You sons of bitches got some nerve, showing up here looking like that." The gun flicked between Cas and Gabriel, like he couldn't decide which of them he wanted to shoot first, and Sam knew he had to do something quick before this ended in tragedy.

He held up his hands pleadingly. "_Dean_. It's us. Swear to god it's really us." Once again, however, he only found himself staring down the barrel of his brother's gun as it swung back towards him.

"They're _dead_," Dean managed to grind out from between gritted teeth, before clamping his mouth shut and breathing hard through his nose. His gaze flickered, almost unwillingly, towards Cas. "All of them. You're not them."

In the periphery of his vision, Sam saw Castiel tilt his head, and knew without having to look properly that he'd be wearing that puzzled, vaguely sympathetic expression he so often got. He closed his eyes, hoping fervently that Cas wasn't about to inadvertently provoke Dean into shooting one or all of them.

"Dean, you must believe in this. Our Father has seen fit to grant us second chances–"

"Don't you do that, you bastard, don't you try and sound like him." Dean seemed torn now, the gun wavering between Cas and Sam, his eyes wild and too bright. He hadn't pulled the trigger yet, probably due to that diehard aversion to harming anything that came in the guise of a loved one that Dean had always been prone to – but it was only a matter of time. A matter of seconds, possibly, and this was so not how he'd anticipated things playing out.

"Dude, it's _us_. I know this is weird, okay? I _do_, but if you just let me explain–"

"_Shut up_." Dean took a breath, steadying himself, and cast that same hard-eyed, cocksure grin in Sam's direction that he'd aimed at a thousand monsters over the years. "You – _you _might have fooled me. Maybe. You're pretty good, even sound like him. What are you, a shifter?" The smile dropped like a stone as he looked back at Cas. "But this one. It's not right. Got the outfit all wrong. Cas doesn't look like that."

Gabriel made a despairing sound low in his throat. "I can't believe we got brought back and survived this long only for your brother to kill us because he doesn't like Castiel's new _fashion sense_...!"

Dean darted a narrow glance at him, hesitating, like he was vaguely surprised anything could imitate that exact whining pitch Gabriel could hit when he wanted to. Sam snorted, privately thinking Dean should know damn well it was one of a kind, and quietly tried to shuffle the archangel a few more inches behind him.

But Castiel – he actually looked _amused_, plucking idly at the front of his T-shirt. "My coat is in the car, if that's what you're referring to."

Dean smiled blankly. "Yeah, sure it is. Well look, if you really are Cas, guess you're not too worried bout the bullet I'm about to put in you, right?"

Panicked, Sam started forward. "No, don't –!"

His brother snarled, shoved him back.

And Cas said quietly, "I'm human, Dean."

They were quiet, tension like static in the air as Dean visibly fought with himself. "What?" he snapped eventually.

"I was brought back human. So was Gabriel. And Sam no longer serves as a vessel." He moved closer, apparently oblivious to the way Dean tensed up even more, only stopping when the barrel of the gun was pressed against his chest and a muscle in Dean's jaw was twitching violently. "So shoot me, if you wish, but you should know I don't have the Grace to heal myself. I will die, in front of you, again."

Dean let out a breath like someone had gut-punched him, but he didn't move, one way or another.

"Castiel, don't be so stupid," Gabriel hissed, leaning around Sam to glare.

Sam had to agree with the sentiment.

"Human," Dean repeated tonelessly. "You're human. You seriously expect me to believe–"

Bizarrely, Castiel looked all out triumphant at that. "This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith."

And to Sam's complete bemusement, Dean went white at the seemingly innocuous statement. Cas took the opportunity to step relentlessly closer, his mouth tilted upwards in what might have been a smile. It was the most light in his eyes Sam had seen in weeks. "What's the matter? You don't believe we deserved to be saved?"

Dean reeled backwards, expression gone slack. "What the hell? ..._Cas_?"

Sam shared an incredulous look with Gabriel, uncomprehending. The archangel just shrugged and rolled his eyes off to the side, scathingly muttering something that contained the words _disgusting epic love affair_.

"S-Sam? What...?"

Sam held his hands up helplessly. "Dude, I don't even know."

The gun lowered like Dean forgot he was holding it. He looked between them as if half frightened by the sight. Spasmodically, one hand shot out to _thunk_ against Sam's chest, the gesture clumsy and desperate, groping. "...Sam. _Sammy_."

Sam grabbed his brother's wrist, his shoulder. It was almost as if Deanwere the one newly back to life, and he had to make sure he was _real_; solid flesh and blood. He grinned shakily, said on a breath, "Yeah. S'me Dean."

And suddenly he had an armful of brother, Dean slamming against his chest so hard he lost his breath, the gun clattering to the ground at their feet. It occurred to him distantly that it was true: Winchesters didn't hug except for instances of death or resurrection. So possibly it said something awful about them that, by now, it was comfortingly familiar to drop his face against Dean's shoulder and feel his brother's hand clamped across the nape of his neck, Dean muttering disbelief into his ear. Moments exactly like this one had come to punctuate Sam's whole life. In fact, only one little detail made this any different to all the other times.

Dean's other hand was clenched in Castiel's T-shirt.

xxx

Emotional reunion done with, hard practicality reasserted itself as soon as Bobby came outside, took stock of the situation and proceeded to call Dean nine kinds of stupid for hugging first and asking questions later. He'd had them back at gunpoint within moments, marched swiftly into the house and promptly subjected to every supernatural test the pair could think up.

"Now this – _this _is hospitality!" Gabriel enthused sarcastically, from where he was sitting in a dining room chair with his wrists bound to the arms of it.

Sam, in a similar position, gave him a warning look. Wasn't like the caution was unwarranted.

They all had a number of shallow cuts across their arms where they'd been nicked with blades of silver and iron and varying other materials. They'd been chanted over, examined through mirrors, and asked every personal question Dean and Bobby could think up. Sam, at this point, looked like he had dandruff with so much salt caught in his hair, and now finally they were arriving at the last trial by holy water.

Dean held a shot glass out to Sam, and when he tossed it back without problem, his brother closed his eyes in what might have been profound relief. While Bobby unceremoniously did the same for Gabriel, Dean moved on to stand in front of Castiel. The angel – despite the fact that he was tied down, exhausted and powerless; had been probed and interrogated and almost shot – looked utterly content for the first time in... in _months_. Dean carefully raised the holy water to his mouth, and Castiel's blue gaze remained unwavering and trusting and fixed with Dean's as he drank.

Gabriel maybe threw up a little bit in his mouth.

Bobby cleared his throat gruffly when it was done. "Well. That's that, then. All human, far as I can tell."

"Yeah..." Dean agreed faintly, still obviously stunned.

There was ringing silence between them for long moments as most occupants of the room tried to absorb the massive revelations that had so suddenly been thrown at them.

It was broken, predictably, by Gabriel wiggling vigorously in his chair as he tugged futilely at his restraints. "Awesome. _So _glad you've at last managed to establish exactly what we told you over an hour ago. Now, anyone wanna do the honours and _untie _us?"

Dean scowled at him as though taken aback. "Okay – Sam and Cas I get. But you... Dude, you're just random. What the hell are you doing here?"

"_Me_? Oh, that's very nice, that is! Not like I got caught up in the Winchester whirlwind of destruction or anything – or, I don't know, wasted my last dying breaths telling you _how to stop the apocalypse_!"

"Oh please, your 'last dying breaths' were lost in some chick's–"

"Dean!" Sam glared pointedly at his brother, rubbing his newly freed wrist as he rose to his feet and Bobby moved to release Castiel. "Let's just... take a minute here, okay?"

Dean grunted, cooperative as ever.

"Right." Sam took a breath, then frowned. "Wait, first of all, what are _you _doing here? Where's Lisa? And Ben? And the whole normal life? _Ringing any bells here_?"

His brother did a passable impression of a deer in headlights. "...Lisa?"

"Yeah, Dean, _Lisa_."

Dean might have continued to flounder, but Bobby saved him the trouble, giving a dismissive snort of derision. "Idjit got himself kicked out three weeks in. Been mooching round here ever since – and lemme tell you. He's a _delight_."

"Yeah..." Dean reminisced wryly. "She wasn't real big on trying to wash blood out of laundry every night. Or having weapons around the house. Or the identity fraud... the drinking... the nightmares... the teaching Ben to swear– Actually, that swearing thing was probably the deal-breaker, now that I think about it."

Gabriel began to laugh obnoxiously.

"_Dean_!" Completely incredulous, Sam stuttered uselessly for a second or two. "I thought you were... off being happy! And normal. And _retired_."

"I tried! Was all set to be Mister Suburbia, man. ...Then Crowley gave me a lead on a couple of demons. And there was this haunting across town. And the freaky-ass shadow thing. There were kids in that neighbourhood, Sammy, what was I supposed to do?"

Sam sat down again, head in his hands. All that time keeping himself away, all that time trying to handle everything on his own so Dean could remain happily oblivious – and Dean had been here all along, as entrenched in danger and the supernatural as ever.

"Your turn, Samantha. You wanna explain the Lazarus routine and the angelic entourage?"

Sam shrugged as he looked up. "I honestly have no–"

"It was our Father," Castiel insisted. He'd already gravitated to Dean's side, resuming the invasion into his personal space as if he'd never left. "No other force could possibly have lifted Sam from Lucifer's cage and returned myself and Gabriel to life."

Dean nodded. "Okay, I can buy that. God finally pulled his head out of his ass. Terrific. But what's with the..." He gestured vaguely at the angels, apparently trying to encompass their humanness.

Gabriel, now stretched out in his chair with his legs crossed in front of him, snapped his fingers and pointed at Dean. "_That_ is the othersixty-four dollar question, Deano. And we were rather hoping the knowledgeable Mister Singer over here could help answer it for us."

Dean frowned. "Hey, I just realised. If you didn't know I was here... You were coming to see Bobby before you came and got _me_?"

All eyes fell upon Sam, who looked off to one side and stayed silent.

Gabriel huffed in exasperation. "What he's so _subtly_ trying not to say is that–"

"Gabriel!"

"–left up to him, we wouldn't have come got you at all."

Dean looked between the three of them sharply, quickly finding confirmation of the fact in Gabriel's blasé nonchalance, Castiel's downturned eyes and Sam's tortured, guilty expression. Suspicion rose in him. "Wait. How long... How long have you all been back...?"

"..."

"Going on a month now, isn't it?"

"Gabriel, I swear to god–"

"Okay, okay! I'm shutting up. Jeez..."

Dean gaped at them, wounded. "A _month_? You've been back a _month_ and you didn't at any point think I'd wanna _know_?"

"Dean–"

"What the hell have you been doing for a whole _month_?"

Sam opened his mouth and then closed it, at a loss. He exchanged glances with Cas and Gabriel, thinking back on the number of little incidents that had transpired in the last few weeks, and realising how suddenly difficult they were to condense into words.

Behind him, Bobby sighed heavily. "I'll go get a bottle of the good stuff, then. Might as well do this thing properly..."


	10. Chapter 10

**Title**: For Love is Strong as Death

**Authoress**: Sakuri

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: Sam/Gabe, eventual Dean/Cas slash. Slight AU. Four months after the apocalypse that wasn't, Sam, Castiel and Gabriel are brought back to life at the same time and place, leaving Sam to deal with two suddenly human angels and the fact that he can never see his brother again...

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing and no one

xxx

**Sakuri**: I'm sorry! University deadlines completely ate my life. Hopefully I can get back to the quick updates now. On with the story!

xxx

"Hey, you think they're talking about us?"

The two angels stood side by side on Bobby's porch, looking out over the salvage yard. In the distance, Sam and Dean meandered slowly through the broken, glittering mess of cars, deep in conversation.

Castiel appeared to consider the question seriously for about five seconds, then decided, "No. I believe they're emotionally reconnecting after such a traumatic incident and prolonged separation."

Gabriel sighed and cast his younger sibling a pitying glance. "No one ever taught you the concept of 'gossip', did they? I despair, Castiel; I truly do. Your education is sadly lacking..."

Castiel frowned at him. "I know what 'gossip' is. That said, you asked me a question and I answered with my opinion. Does that not comply with the customary rules of gossiping?"

"Alright, _fine_. Wanna tell me what you think they _are _talking about?"

"The weather, Gabriel. I'm quite certain they're discussing the weather."

"...Was that _sarcasm_?" Delighted, the archangel practically bounced on the spot. "So we _are _related! I was starting to have my doubts for a minute there."

Castiel hummed a vague note of agreement.

For a few more minutes they resumed their silent observation of the humans, hearing snatches of Dean's bright laughter in the crisp winter air, Sam a quieter undercurrent of barely subdued excitement. There'd been shouts, earlier. Arguing. There'd even been a scuffle.

Gabriel suddenly let out an impatient sigh, moving to leave the porch. "I'm going to go ask–"

Castiel swiftly reached out and caught his arm before he got further than the second step. "Leave them."

Gabriel shook him off, looking affronted. "Why?"

"You've become accustomed to having the majority of Sam's attention focused solely on you, Gabriel, but you must take a step back, now, and allow him time with his brother."

Affront visibly turned defensive. "Oh yeah? That the excuse you're using for why you haven't gone and jumped Winchester yet? We've been here a whole _three hours_, after all..."

Castiel ignored the jibe. "I will talk with Dean later. But for now–"

"Have you _always _treated them like they're this precious? Because I gotta say, Castiel, it's a miracle they get out of bed in the morning without you there to take their hands and–"

"Listen to me. At least in terms of emotional development, Dean is more than Sam's brother. He is his parent. I simply think it would be wise to bear that in mind and allow them the appropriate time together without our interference."

Gabriel squinted at him with something like morbid fascination. "...Wow, you have given this _way _too much thought."

Blue eyes cut sternly towards him. "So should you, if you propose to care about Sam at all."

He blinked, surprised into wordlessness for a good second or two. Then, recovering, he scoffed dismissively. "Who, Gigantor over there? Hey, I like the kid, but–"

Castiel just turned and _looked _at him, dismissing all arguments with a knowing expression. "Gabriel. I'm not blind. You care for Sam Winchester. In what sense is none of my business, but I see no reason for you to deny it out of hand."

He scowled and kicked at the porch steps. "Yeah, well. _You _wouldn't, would you..." They watched as Sam said something that made Dean throw back his head and laugh. "So – what? We're just supposed to wait until the family bonding time is over?" Great. And he'd thought this would be the _faster _route to getting his Grace back...

"Humans are... complex." It sounded almost apologetic.

"Amen to that." He looked at Castiel expectantly, but when his brother only blinked curiously back at him, he sighed and added, "Now you're supposed to say 'Preach it'."

Castiel frowned at him in confusion, looking vaguely constipated if you asked Gabriel. He ignored it and tried again.

"Amen to that!"

"...Preach... it?"

"_Mm_-hm."

xxx

Dean's little brother was a moron. A high-strung, ovary-infested, martyrdom-aspiring moron.

It was a shame, really. Dean had done his best, raised him right, exposed him to all sorts of manly influences like Die Hard and Metallica and classic cars. It just hadn't seemed to take.

But because Dean was the awesome brother, he loved Sam even despite the melodramatic flights of fancy that so often entered his head and got them into trouble. Which was why, upon hearing Sam's explanation for why he hadn't seen fit to drop Dean a line and, yanno, update him to the fact that he was _back from the dead_, Dean had heroically restrained himself to punching Sam in the face just the once.

A month. A fucking _month_. Dean couldn't believe they were related sometimes...

They'd moved on from that argument for the moment, however (to be returned to at a later, inconvenient date, no doubt) and were occupied by updating each other to exactly what had transpired in the other's absence. For Dean, there wasn't much of a story to tell (not out loud, anyway). He'd spent the first couple of months shellshocked by the almost-apocalypse and the even greater personal losses, and after that came a violent blur of hunting and alcohol and not much else. Not really something he ever planned to discuss with Sam.

His brother's stories, though, were proving much more entertaining.

"Gabriel got you guys _arrested_? Oh, man, wish I'd been there..."

Sam snorted, half-amused by the memory now that he could view it in retrospect. After all, it wasn't everybody who could say they'd protected an age-old archangel from the shady looking drunk in the corner.

"Still," Dean added after a second or two, "least you got angels. I don't care what crap Gabriel pulls: angels have gotta beat having to hang around here with a demon."

Sam immediately stopped dead in his tracks at the implication in his brother's words. "Demon? There was a demon? God, Dean, please tell me you didn't try to make another deal..."

"Actually I did," Dean answered blithely, much to Sam's paralyzing horror. "I made a deal that if Crowley never came within ten feet of the Impala again, I'd stop trying to exorcise him on sight."

"..._Crowley_?" That, at least, helped jolt him back into motion, and he jogged to catch up, aiming an incredulous look at the side of Dean's head. "What the hell is Crowley still doing here?"

Dean's expression darkened. Actually, he'd being expending a considerable amount of energy trying to ignore the demon's comings and goings. It had even worked for a while, too. Bobby wasn't exactly advertising the fact that he'd suddenly made friends with one of Hell's finest, and Dean had understandably had more pressing issues on his mind. It did, however, become increasingly difficult to ignore the two emptied scotch glasses that tended to reappear on Bobby's desk every morning when Dean came downstairs. Or the chessboard that had been set up in the study, its pieces having moved slightly every time Dean happened to check on it. (Since when the hell did Bobby play _chess_, anyway?) He was even pretty sure that Crowley brought his goddamn _hellhound_ with him sometimes, since Bobby's dogs had developed an unfortunate habit of hightailing it into the house and refusing to leave for days, and Dean would get chills down his spine whenever he got too close to the kennels during those times. He tended to avoid them altogether, these days. Just in case.

Anyway, it had finally become _impossible _to ignore Crowley's unwelcome presence the day the demon had blinked into existence right next to him, heedlessly invading the sanctity of Dean's alone time in the Impala, and bluntly informed him that his "insipid brooding" was not only getting old, but also beginning to worry "Robert", since apparently everyone was familiar with his "sad tendency to venture into psychopathic territory" whenever he was "left to dwell too long upon the injustices done against Winchesters." This, mind, had become a personal problem for Crowley only because it meant Bobby was too distracted to be good company anymore – hence the demon heroically making the time and effort to offer some good worldly advice that essentially boiled down to: "Buck up, kid, because you're annoying the bloody hell out of everyone."

Dean had shot him in the leg and told him to stay the hell out of his car in future.

"...Dean?"

He snapped back to attention, wrinkling his nose distastefully in answer to Sam's question. "Ah, I don't even know, man. Far as I can figure, he and Bobby have this whole asexual married-couple thing going on. Freakin' weird..."

Sam raised his eyebrows sharply. "Asexual? I thought Crowley was–"

"_Asexual_, Sam, I said asexual! Problem with that?"

Sam held up his hands quickly, more than happy to concede the point.

They walked on.

"Hey Dean?"

"S'up?"

"You might wanna talk to Cas at some point."

"Bout what?"

Sam came to a stop, shoulders hunched guiltily. "I don't think he's dealing too well with the whole 'being human' thing."

Dean raised one eyebrow. "Well. He is an _angel_, Sam," he pointed out, speaking slowly as though to an idiot. "Course he's not dealing well with it."

And it was just that simple, when Dean said it. Sam abruptly felt a surge of relief, because Dean _got _these kind of things and could fix them. He grinned stupidly, helpless to stop the reaction. "I'm really glad you were here, yanno."

His brother glowered, nonplussed. "So you're just _springing _the chick-flick moments on me now?"

Sam chuckled, ducking his head. "Sorry."

"Yeah, whatever." Dean turned his head, peering into the sun. "Hey, uh. About Cas. So you... You think he's not doing okay?"

Sam thought about it for a moment. "I think it'll be better, here. You're the closest thing he's got to a best friend, yanno? Somehow I don't think me and Gabriel were really cutting it."

They turned to look back at the house where both angels stood occupying the porch, apparently making no effort whatsoever to disguise their remarkable resemblance to abandoned puppies.

"Oh man," Dean muttered. "I told you if you kept feeding them they'd never leave..."

Sam smirked, little-brother smug. "Yeah right. You know you owe me forever for bringing Cas back in one piece."

Dean scoffed but refrained from comment, instead asking, "So what's the deal with Gabriel?"

"How do you mean?"

He nodded towards the porch. "Cas isn't the only one rocking the puppydog-eyes over there. Something you wanna tell me?"

"Like what?" Sam asked too quickly, and Dean recognised that cagey expression.

He groaned. "Ah, come on! Seriously?"

"Dean, it's not what you think–"

"You actually made _friends _with that son of a bitch?"

Sam blinked. "...What?" Then, weirdly, something almost like relief flashed across his expression. "Friends! Yes! I mean... Uh, maybe? I guess?"

"I thought you hated him? You do remember he _killed _me, right? Like, a hundred fucking times!"

Sam shrugged sheepishly, unable to offer much in the way of explanation. What was he supposed to say? _Yeah, I realise he's very probably a sociopath with a sex problem, and as a matter of fact I __**do **__have a vague recollection of the number of times he's epically __**screwed**__ us. He's self-centred and childish and kind of an asshole, I know – but since he mastered using the microwave, he makes __**awesome **__popcorn. Seriously. You'd love it. _

Yeah. That'd go over just peachy...

Dean pointed at him. "Well, don't say I didn't warn you, Sammy." With that, he turned and started walking back towards the house, calling over his shoulder, "Anyway, come on. I wanna go traumatise Crowley by introducing him to an archangel. Gabriel might as well make himself useful for _something_..."


	11. Chapter 11

**Title**: For Love is Strong as Death

**Authoress**: Sakuri

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: Sam/Gabe, eventual Dean/Cas slash. Slight AU. Four months after the apocalypse that wasn't, Sam, Castiel and Gabriel are brought back to life at the same time and place, leaving Sam to deal with two suddenly human angels and the fact that he can never see his brother again...

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing and no one

xxx

"Ha, I just realised," the demon chortled. "It's like the setup to a supremely bad joke: A Fallen angel, a pagan god, and the newly risen dead walk into a bar..."

"Can you not make me sound like some kind of zombie, please?"

"It's just bitch, bitch, bitch with you, isn't it?"

Such was the conversation that saw in the New Year that night, which was really just typical.

Bobby had disappeared upstairs about half an hour ago, claiming the need to be well rested if he was going to be dealing with a full house of idjits. The rest of them had taken over his living room, no one quite ready to surrender to sleep just yet. Sam sat cross-legged on the floor, his back to a couch occupied by Cas and Gabriel. Dean handed him a beer as he wandered past, going to sprawl himself in the armchair near Crowley, who stood lounging in the doorway like he was bored out of his mind – an effect ruined only by the fact that he_ hadn't left yet. _

As it turned out, Gabriel and Crowley hadn't so much traumatised each other as gotten along like a house on fire (with all the ominous, destructive potential which that simile implied, in Sam's opinion).

"I know you've been 'slumming it' for a while now," he'd muttered scathingly to the archangel a little earlier, after watching him and Crowley make nice for the best part of an hour, "but surely even _you _have _some _standards left. You know he's a demon, right?"

Gabriel had actually looked offended. "Hey, I've been accused of a lot of things in my time – most of them, admittedly, kinda true – but I am _not _a racist!"

"Hear, hear," Crowley had said, raising the glass of scotch he seemed to have permanently at hand and drinking a mocking toast.

Exasperated, Sam had given up and left them to it.

Currently, however, the archangel had returned to his favoured means of entertainment: irritating Sam. He'd manoeuvred himself to be directly at Sam's back, where he could easily reach out and tug at strands of his hair, or run a nail down his spine to send a jolt of ticklishness right through him. Twice Sam had elbowed him in the shin in retaliation, and he was starting to suspect he should really just move if he wanted to put a stop to it.

He didn't, though. God knew why.

From the other end of the couch, Castiel watched these exchanges with puzzlement. He knew his brother was fond of Sam, in his own way, but for the life of him he couldn't understand the way in which Gabriel chose to express that fondness. He was almost completely certain it followed no human or angelic custom.

But then, he supposed, no matter what he thought of Gabriel's unorthodox methods, at least his brother was _doing_ something; acting on what he wanted; decisive in a way that had never come naturally to Castiel. He chanced a look across at Dean, who was occupied in glaring hatefully up at Crowley, and he thought about the conversation he'd shared with Gabriel not so long ago, about what he would say to the human who had once been his charge if he ever saw him again.

_For love is strong as death_, he'd said back then. He had yet to say it here and now. And, truthfully, he hadn't the first idea of howhe was going to go about it.

_If _he was going to go about it.

"Why are you even here, anyway?" Dean suddenly snapped, apparently in response to something Crowley had just said to him.

The demon shrugged elegantly. "I'm an invited guest, as I'm sure you remember."

"More like 'unwanted pest'..."

"You wound me, truly."

"Yeah, shut the hell up, Crowley."

"Make me, darling."

Sam smiled slightly as he listened to them, realising that the back and forth between the two had something almost habitual about it, like sniping at each other had become par for the course these days. There was hostility there, certainly – but not the kind likely to make Dean go for the Colt, or Crowley to use powers.

Unbidden, he remembered the key role that the demon had played in helping them stop the apocalypse, and the morbidly amusing thought occurred to him that, somehow or other, Crowley had gone and gotten himself absorbed into Team Free Will.

A socked foot suddenly prodded him in the kidney, painful, and he instinctively reached behind himself to grab Gabriel's ankle and hold him still. Muscles and tendons twitched in protest beneath his fingers. He ignored it, wordless. Didn't even turn around, but went on watching Dean and Crowley bicker as if nothing had happened. After a minute or so, Gabriel stopped trying to pull away and slumped in defeat. Really, that should have been his cue to let go. He did think about it. Couldn't really figure out what made him flex his fingers instead, holding on just this side of too tight. Behind him, Gabriel froze. Sam wondered vaguely what the fuck had happened to his resolve not to send out the wrong signals.

Voices escalated around them as his brother's sniping turned into an actual argument, and Castiel rose from the couch to go join him. It occurred to Sam that no one was paying any attention to them. Apparently it occurred to Gabriel, too, because the archangel leaned forward into his personal space, breath breezing past his ear as he hissed, "Yanno, I'm starting to suspect you have something of a fetish, Sammy."

Sam started to turn his head, then realised that would put them face-to-face and hastily suspended the motion. He swallowed awkwardly and managed to rasp, "...You're really annoying."

Gabriel huffed surprised laughter against the back of his neck, said quietly, "You like it." He brought a hand up, fingers sliding themselves proprietarily into Sam's hair; certainly no comforting gesture this time.

Sam half-heartedly tried to twist his head away. "Don't." Someone was going to turn and see them any second now, and it'd be difficult to convince anyone that the weirdly intimate position was actually just a comparatively harmless case of hair-pulling.

(He wished he could find more of a reason to object than that. Anything, really. Anything at all.)

Gabriel smirked, so close now that Sam could feel the curve of it against his skin. "It's just gone New Year. I thought humans had that tradition of getting laid at midnight?"

A sharp shock of amusement made him laugh out loud at that. It broke the spell. He turned around, dislodging Gabriel's hold on him, and pinned the archangel with a disbelieving look. "Actually, we have that tradition of _just kissing _at midnight. Also, we've missed midnight by nearly two hours. _Also_, I'm not going to kiss you, if that's what you're hinting at – midnight or any other time."

Gabriel pouted, slouching back into the couch cushions with folded arms. "Jeez, Sam, way to suck the fun out of one little joke."

"Oh come off it." But he was grinning, helplessly.

xxx

They gave in and called it a night some time around three in the morning. Crowley blinked out to go steal souls or drown kittens or whatever it was he did instead of sleeping, and everyone else headed for bed.

Dean was sharing his usual room with Sam, but on his way upstairs he hesitated outside the newly designated angels' room. After a second or two he knocked and poked his head inside, momentarily taken aback by the sight of Castiel standing there clad in pyjamas that might once have been Sam's. He was busy folding the clothes he'd been wearing earlier, laying them neatly on a chair. He glanced over his shoulder at Dean's entrance, blue eyes smiling even though his mouth didn't move.

"Dean."

"Hey. Where's Gabriel?"

"I believe he's saying goodnight to Sam." Castiel moved to sit on the edge of the bed, offering a wry tilt of his head. "By which I mean he's probably occupied in accosting your brother with his unique interpretation of friendship."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "...Good to know."

"Did you want him for something?"

"Gabriel? God no." He shoved his hands into his pockets and shuffled a few steps further into the room. "Just thought I'd... yanno. Check in on you." They stared at each other silently for a while, until Dean coughed and prompted, "So you're okay then?"

"Yes, actually," came the vaguely surprised answer, as if Castiel was only just realising it himself. "Today... did not turn out as expected. It was a pleasant surprise."

"Understatement." He dropped down onto the bed next to Cas, feeling the last residual tension drain from him. The whole day had seemed surreal, quite literally too good to be true; and, weirdly, it was only now, sitting next to a human Castiel with his oversized pyjamas, that anything seemed even remotely real.

"What about you?" Castiel asked quietly, turning to face him. "Are you alright?"

And for a moment, Dean actually considered handing in all his male credentials once and for all and just _telling _Cas how much he'd fucking _missed_ him. He found himself thinking wildly about attempting to describe what it had been like, trying to grieve both Sam and Cas at the same time; how he'd lost his mind for a little while back there; how it felt like a goddamn _miracle_ now that they were both back, unharmed and relatively unchanged; and how, in the deep dark part of his mind that he was even now trying to shut out, he was fucking terrified there'd be some kind of catch.

It blindsided him, how suddenly strong the urge to confess was. In that split second, he wanted to do crazy things, stupid things – like admit that the unmitigated disaster with Lisa hadn't just been because of the hunting thing, but also because he'd said the wrong name at the wrong time once or twice too often. He wanted to go get one of his own band T-shirts from the closet, just so Cas would have that to sleep in rather than clothing that belonged to anyone else but Dean. He wanted to do something desperate, and obvious, and honest.

But, ultimately, Dean was still a Winchester – and every damn one of them was about as emotionally articulate as a wall.

So he settled for clapping the angel brusquely on the shoulder as he rose to his feet (and if his hand lingered longer than a purely casual gesture strictly should, then that was all he allowed himself). "Glad you're back, Cas. Seriously. Things... weren't the same without you."

Castiel gazed up at him solemnly, hesitating, like he was about to say something in return.

"What's up?"

"Dean, I..."

But he stopped, looking away, and Dean's stomach dropped with irrational fear, because Cas _never _broke eye contact first – or at all, if given the option. He ducked down, trying to get it back. "Hey, c'mon, what's wrong?"

Castiel visibly recovered himself, spine straightening and eyes returning to Dean's as though it were inevitable. He offered the smallest twitch of a smile. "Nothing. I apologise. I'm in need of sleep, I suppose."

Mollified, Dean nodded sympathetically. "Not used to all the human bodily needs yet?"

"Hunger, in particular, is proving most pervasive."

Dean grinned. "Tell you what, I'll cook you breakfast in the morning. Full spread. Guarantee you won't be hungry for a week after."

"I'd like that, Dean. Thank you."

He shrugged dismissively, like it was nothing; like the last time he'd done as much wasn't back when Sam was just a kid. With that, he turned and ambled back into the hallway, leaning for a moment longer on the doorframe. "Night, Cas."

"Goodnight."

And still he hovered. He might have said something more, perhaps; something equally trivial or maybe something shattering – but Gabriel chose that moment to barge past him with an elbow to the ribs. "Stop defiling my brother, Winchester. Or if you're going to insist on it, take him to your own damn room. Feel free to send Sammy right on in here, if you're looking for privacy."

Dean sneered at him, infuriated by the interruption. "Yeah, you're delusional if you think I'm leaving you alone with Sam any longer than necessary."

Gabriel held out his arms innocently, but Dean didn't wait for a response, slamming the door shut in hopes of getting the last word in.

Gabriel's muffled voice was still audible, however, calling shrilly after him, "Oh come on! I'd totally give you my blessing to bang my little brother if you gave me yours!"

"Fuck you, Gabriel!" he yelled back at the top of his voice, no doubt waking everyone in the house, before proceeding to stomp off down the hall. He got halfway to his own room before the archangel's words finally registered. "Wait. _What_?"

Annoyingly, Gabriel wouldn't open the door again when he went back to pound on it, and Sam was conveniently, stubbornly asleep.


	12. Chapter 12

**Title**: For Love is Strong as Death

**Authoress**: Sakuri

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: Sam/Gabe, eventual Dean/Cas slash. Slight AU. Four months after the apocalypse that wasn't, Sam, Castiel and Gabriel are brought back to life at the same time and place, leaving Sam to deal with two suddenly human angels and the fact that he can never see his brother again...

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing and no one

xxx

**Sakuri**: Oh god, this chapter _did not _want to be written. And then when it finally _was _written, wouldn't let me post it due to 'Error Type 2'. Pfft. Hope it's worth the wait, anyway.

xxx

Bobby started looking into the angels' little problem the very next day. He enlisted Sam to help him sort through the books he already had at hand in the study, identifying and setting aside all those that might contain anything even remotely related to angelic lore. After that, all there was to do was sit down and painstakingly sift through it all.

Sam couldn't actually remember seeing Dean volunteer for research so enthusiastically in his life – though it didn't take him long to realise that it was only because his brother was hoping to give Gabriel back his powers as soon as possible, so that the archangel could be on his merry way that much faster. It wasn't a noble effort by any means, but Sam still felt a little guilty that he didn't share the same enthusiasm as he worked his way through his own stack of books. Truth was, he'd grown kind of... _accustomed _to Gabriel's invasive, irritating presence. It'd be weird when he didn't have a reason to stick around anymore.

So they read. And read. And read some more. When they actually started to run out of books, Bobby resorted to calling up contacts of his who might be able to help, and made Dean drive into town a couple of days later to pick up the new texts that had been dropped off in a storage locker there. Then, increasingly desperate, they'd even persuaded Crowley to do a little asking around within demonic circles. He'd refused point blank to begin with, even with the litany of growled abuse Bobby had given him, but then Gabriel quietly said something to him and the demon was gone like a shot.

Suspicious, Sam pulled the archangel aside afterwards.

"Please tell me you didn't just give him your soul."

"I'm an angel. Technically I don't have a soul to give."

"...Please tell me you didn't just give him any of _our _souls."

"Actually I promised to give him all the dirt I ever had on your brother. His man-crush on Dr Sexy is top of the list, by the way."

Sam snorted. "Hell, if he comes back with something good, I'll tell him about the time Dean shrieked at a cat myself."

But Crowley didn't come back with anything good. He came back as clueless and empty handed as they were, even after a week of solid research. All they could reasonably conclude was that nothing similar had ever happened to another angel before – or, if it had, it'd never been documented.

So yeah. Newsflash: Cas and Gabriel were _special_.

"Maybe you just need more time to heal," Sam offered resignedly once again, when it became clear that they'd at last run out of research options.

He glanced around the study at his companions. Gabriel was perched on Bobby's desk, his heels kicking idly against the wood. Castiel stood with his back to the wall, fixedly watching Dean spin himself around in a computer chair, a book balanced precariously on his forehead. It was safe to say they'd all become a little discouraged.

When no one responded to him, Sam tried again, making a vague and helpless sort of hand gesture. "Maybe Grace takes a while to, yanno... regenerate."

Dean made a sceptical sound, finally sitting up straight and allowing the book to drop into his waiting hands. "Or maybe they're just human now, and that's the end of it."

Behind him, Castiel flinched involuntarily.

Gabriel scowled. "_Nice_, Deano. What happened – you were too busy standing in line for second helpings of _Dumbass Luck_ while they were handing out Tact?"

Apparently even Dean realised he'd overstepped a line, as he grunted a reluctant apology.

Sam sighed. "Look, how about we give the heavy-duty study sessions a break for now, since they don't actually seem to be helping us any. Okay?" As it happened, he personally considered it a minor miracle that Gabriel and Dean had been able to work together for so long without one or both of them resorting to violence, so he was all for not pushing their luck any further than necessary.

"Yeah, whatever," Dean muttered, pushing himself up from his chair. "I'll be outside if anyone needs me."

Sam watched his brother stalk from the room, wondering absently if it was too soon after their reunion to be needing a break from Dean's issues.

xxx

Dean spent a good two hours out in the yard tampering with the Impala's engine. There was nothing on her that actually needed fixing, of course. Dean treated his baby far too good for that. But sometimes she provided a great excuse for a little alone time.

Still, he shouldn't actually _need _alone time, he reminded himself angrily. He'd spent five months wishing for nothing but the return of the people he'd just left back inside (well, except maybe Gabriel). It was just...

Well, it turned out that 'absence makes the heart grow fonder' wasn't exactly the bullshit sentimental drivel that Dean had always thought it. And Cas had been pretty damn absent for a long time. It made hanging out with him all day every day sort of... difficult. At least if he was at all hoping to get through another evening without unexpectedly jumping the angel.

Suddenly frustrated, he wondered what the hell was wrong with him. He wasn't even _gay_, for fuck's sake. Never in his life had he felt any particular need to get it on with another guy. He was just... having something of a minor midlife crisis, was all. Okay, alright, _fine_ – he might have had a few _questionable_ moments in the past (the panties incident sprang to mind, along with the occasional mild crush on decidedly male actors), but this was different. This was _Cas_, the only real friend he'd ever had who wasn't Sam, and he couldn't chance screwing that up. Especially when Cas still had something so weirdly innocent going for him. He deserved better than Dean's personal brand of corruption. Dude was still a virgin, for Christ's sake...

...Unless of course he'd gone and done something to change that fact in the past month, with only Sam and Gabriel to watch out for him, neither of whom could have done as good a job as Dean would. He glared at the interior of the Impala's engine, trying to ignore the sharp pang of hostility that shot through him at the thought that they might have let Cas sleep with some random chick who wouldn't even have known anything about him (along with the memory of his own disastrous attempt to orchestrate the very same thing back at the whorehouse that one time. Seriously. What the fuck had he been thinking?)

Annoyed at himself, he slammed the hood shut with more force than strictly necessary, and, pausing only to mutter a sheepish apology to his baby, he admitted defeat and slouched back towards the house.

And completely in keeping with the craptastic run of irony Dean had been noticing lately, Cas was the only one present in the living room when he wandered in. The angel was perched comfortably at one end of the couch, his legs curled up under him with a book in his lap. Dean wouldn't have thought he'd ever see the day when Castiel _unbent _enough to sit like that. It was stupidly endearing.

"Hey," he greeted awkwardly, hovering. "Where is everybody?"

Castiel glanced up at him complacently. "Against all advice, Bobby is currently playing chess with the demon in his study. And as for your brother, Gabriel said something to him about a 'google' and a 'youtube', and they've been upstairs ever since. They took the laptop."

Dean took an automatic step towards the stairs, already entertaining half-formed thoughts of forcefully reminding Gabriel exactly what he'd said about not being alone with Sam – but then he caught himself, realising the pointlessness of doing so. Not only was Gabriel a persistent little shit who'd find a way to do exactly what Dean said _not _to if it killed him, he'd also been effectively alone with Sam for more than a month already. If the archangel was ever going to succeed in corrupting his brother, he'd have done it by now.

"Screw it..." Sighing with annoyance, he looked around for a distraction. The TV was off, so he grabbed the remote and hit power, carelessly dropping down onto the couch next to Cas. The angel bounced slightly with the impact, but didn't react except to calmly turn a page in his book. It wasn't research, Dean was thankful to see, but one of those long-winded so called 'classics' that Sam read sometimes. Dean eyed it, making a mental note to introduce Cas to sci-fi some time.

He flipped channels for a few minutes, not paying any real attention to the shows he passed by, but content just to sit for a while. He kept one arm thrown along the back of the couch, stretched out towards Cas but careful never to accidentally touch. Castiel continued to read peacefully, undisturbed.

After a while, Dean cleared his throat. "Hey, Cas. Listen. I really am sorry about earlier. Yanno, for saying you might be stuck like this."

Castiel glanced across at him, considering, then shook his head. "It doesn't matter. It's a possibility I should come to terms with, I suppose."

"Yeah, but I shouldn't have–"

"Truly, Dean. It's alright." Castiel tipped his head wryly. "You've said far more thoughtless things in the past and I've forgiven you even when you haven't apologised."

He winced. "...Oh." Well that just made him feel _so _much better about the whole thing.

"There is something I wanted to ask you, however." He closed his book, tapping the cover nervously.

Dean shrugged, flipping a few more channels. "Shoot."

"Can we stay with you?"

He glanced across at the angel, uncomprehending. "What?"

Cas studied his hands. "Gabriel and I, that is. If this condition is... permanent. It's just that I'm not sure we'd have anywhere to go if..."

Dean slowly swivelled around to face the angel, one knee bent and resting on the cushions. "Cas, come on. Seriously? As if you have to _ask_." He paused. "Well, no, _Gabriel _might have to ask. Gabriel might have to fucking _beg _if he doesn't wanna get left at the side of the road somewhere. But you... You're like family, man. Course you're coming with."

The angel blinked like he was surprised, and then did that thing where he was suddenly wearing an expression of warm affection, without ever actually having moved a facial muscle. "Thank you."

Dean flushed slightly and looked away. "S'fine. Not a big deal. And anyway," he added, aiming for cheerful, "if that's our worst case scenario, it's not _so _bad. Is it? I mean, we could get started showing you all the good parts of being human–"

Castiel stopped him with a look. "Dean. No more brothels, please."

And okay, that might have come as a small relief to hear, though it was probably just about the last thing he'd been about to suggest. He made a show of nodding thoughtfully, allowing his channel hopping to settle on a rerun of _America's Next Top Model_. "Well, if you're sure..."

"I am. Besides," he added, intently watching Dean watch the catwalk models onscreen, "I'm not sure I have quite the same... appreciation for women that you do."

Dean blinked, making an effort to tear his gaze away from the pretty girls who even now caught his attention, to frown confusedly at the angel for a moment or two. Then, as he finally caught on to what Cas was trying to say, his eyebrows shot suddenly towards his hairline. "Wait. You, uh– You mean you're...?"

Castiel smiled self-deprecatingly, then seemed to hesitate. "Will that be a problem? I know humans sometimes harbour misgivings about certain tendencies."

"Problem–? No! _No_. God no." He blinked some more. Was he actually... _hearing _this? Castiel really did mean what Dean thought he meant, right? He _had _just admitted to crushing on guys rather than girls, and Dean wasn't just losing his freaking mind to wishful thinking, _right_?

There was a small chance he was panicking.

But Cas still looked a little uncertain over Dean's reaction, so he managed to scrape together enough presence of mind to add, "Seriously, it's uh... It's cool. I spent a whole two years convinced Sammy swung that way back when we were teenagers. I kind of made my peace with it then."

Castiel smiled again, though this time there was some private amusement in the expression. "You may wish to keep that sort of forbearance in mind."

"Huh?"

"Nothing of importance."

Dean probably would have pushed the matter any other time, but currently he was too distracted in staring at Cas like it was the first time he'd ever seen him properly. He felt ridiculously pleased that the angel had told him, as if it was some kind of privilege or something, and not the chick-flick moment it so obviously actually was.

And just like that, in a brief, shining moment of bad judgement, all of Dean's good intentions went straight out the window. He completely forgot, for a second, the whole spiel about Cas being his best friend and how it might be unwise to mess with that. He forgot _entirely _about the small fact that he wasn't actually gay. He even forgot his noble resolution not to corrupt the innocence of a virgin angel.

In short, he forgot pretty much anything which might have told him that what he was about to do next was a thoroughly _stupid _idea.

Rational thought having flat-lined, Dean didn't hesitate when the unformed want in him finally solidified itself: he simply took a breath and surged forward, determinedly closing the distance between them. It was maybe the most recklessly brave thing he'd ever done – and, as usual, it had the customary backfired consequences of any of his more daring heroics.

Castiel let out an aborted sound of shock as their lips met, going rigidly still beneath the insistent press of Dean's mouth. He hadn't yet mastered human intimacies, even now, and it left him frozen, utterly uncertain about how to respond correctly. His mind raced as he tried to figure out what Dean wanted him to do. He'd witnessed acts of kissing since coming to Earth, of course; watched humans perform their careful, precise press of faces. That didn't mean he knew anything about doing it _himself_. Kissing, it seemed to him, was the sharing of lips and tongue and breath and saliva, and frankly he couldn't fathom why it was regarded as pleasurable. As a matter of fact, it looked messy and undignified and vaguely unhygienic, and, from what he could tell, tended to serve as little more than the prelude to a sexual encounter.

And with that thought came real panic.

From what little Castiel knew of sexual encounters (knowledge which was, admittedly, gleaned only through watching Dean's past behaviour with women, and Gabriel's blunt explanation of intercourse) he could only conclude that they were brief and fleeting affairs which usually marked the end of an equally fleeting acquaintance. Sex seemed to him something horribly daunting. It was intense and physical and verging on violent. In no way did he equate it with anything he felt for Dean.

Overwhelmed by the thought and by his own inexperience, he turned his head aside sharply, ending the moment of connection.

Dean gasped slightly and immediately backed off, wide eyed and suddenly pale. He shook his head minutely, and after a few seconds managed to choke out, "...Sorry." The hand that had come to rest on Castiel's shoulder was hurriedly snatched back. "I, I thought... Nothing. Never mind. Sorry."

"Dean." He inclined his head regretfully, wanting nothing more than to say something that would remove the pained expression from the other's face; wanting to explain that it wasn't a rejection, not of _Dean_. Truthfully, he loved the man in front of him more than many would consider it appropriate to love any human. He simply couldn't bring himself to sacrifice that for one or two instances of physical satisfaction.

But then it was too late to explain anything, because Dean was gone without another word, without looking back, fleeing once again to the safety of his car and leaving Castiel to wonder what had just happened.


	13. Chapter 13

**Title**: For Love is Strong as Death

**Authoress**: Sakuri

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: Sam/Gabe, eventual Dean/Cas slash. Slight AU. Four months after the apocalypse that wasn't, Sam, Castiel and Gabriel are brought back to life at the same time and place, leaving Sam to deal with two suddenly human angels and the fact that he can never see his brother again...

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing and no one

xxx

Sam and Gabriel had returned downstairs and were sitting at the kitchen table eating what looked like bowls of Fruit Loops by the time Dean finally dared to show his face back inside the house that night. He paused to raise an eyebrow, unable to remember Sam eating sugary cereal since he turned twelve, much less as an evening snack. Gabriel's influence, no doubt – though whether good or bad was still up for debate.

"Hey, congratulations!" his brother greeted him cheerfully, shit eating grin fixed firmly in place. "You finally stopped hiding in the Impala!"

Dean flipped him off.

The archangel, looking up, jabbed a spoon in his direction, managing to inadvertently splatter milk across Sam. Ignoring the resultant squawk of protest, Gabriel mumbled through a mouthful of multicoloured food, "Oh good. C'mere, sit down a minute. I wanna talk to you about Castiel."

Instantly, Dean froze. "Cas? Why? Did he say something? What did he say? Whatever he said, that's not how it happened."

Both Sam and Gabriel stopped eating, staring at him wordlessly, and Dean winced as he realised he might just have given himself away a little bit there. Sure enough, Sam got that god-awful look of suspicious curiosity that Dean generally tried to avoid like the plague. He glared right back, hoping to head it off.

He was very nearly grateful for Gabriel's presence when, after a few seconds, the archangel held up a forestalling hand. "Please. _Don't_ say any more. I honestly can't imagine anything I want less than to hear the sordid details of whatever awkward fumblings you inflicted on my brother."

Sam scrunched up his nose with a sad little, "Ew..." and pointedly went back to his cereal.

Through gritted teeth, Dean ground out furiously, "I didn't '_inflict_' anything."

Gabriel scoffed. "Yeah, _so _don't care. But seriously, listen a second. It's come to my attention that, as the older sibling, I have some responsibilities here."

"Oh – screw you, Gabriel. I don't need this."

But Gabriel continued as though uninterrupted, now brandishing his spoon at Dean like it was something threatening. "Not to be cliché or anything, but if I understand my role in this correctly, I'm supposed to tell you that if you pull any of your usual crap with my brother, I'll do very bad things to you."

That, at least, surprised an involuntary laugh from him. "You're kidding, right? Dude, you don't have superpowers anymore and you're, like, pocketsize. You really think you can take me?" Smirking, he looked over at Sam as if to share the joke, only to find his brother crunching on Fruit Loops with a perfectly impassive expression.

"No, Dean, he's serious. And creative. And a former avenging angel. So just... yanno. Be nice to Cas. How hard can that be?"

Dean rewarded them both with a vaguely alarmed look, before turning on his heel and all but hightailing it back out of the room.

Sam and Gabriel waited just long enough to be sure he was out of earshot, and then cracked up into shared laughter.

"Okay, okay, you were right. That was _way_ too easy..."

xxx

That something had happened between his brother and Cas was obvious, but for once Sam really wasn't looking for the inside scoop on that one. Let Dean clean up his own mess. Sam would intervene if and only if Cas started reaching for the nearest pill bottle again.

Currently, however, he _had_ decided to take a small leaf out of Dean's book and take just a minute or two alone. It was impossible to do inside, with the five of them plus Crowley occupying a medium sized house, so he'd come out to sit on the porch steps, a thick jacket pulled tight around his shoulders against the cold and a beer in hand, held loosely between his knees. He watched the stars idly and wondered what the hell he was playing at.

This thing with Gabriel was getting to the point where even Sam couldn't manage to ignore it anymore. It was one thing to tolerate the archangel's flirting, comfortable in the knowledge that it didn't mean anything. But somewhere along the way, he'd gone and made a pretty significant mistake: he'd let himself _forget that it didn't mean anything_. Gabriel might not be serious in his intentions, but Sam... well. The last time he'd had a crush that had started off like this, it had been on Jess. Kind of said it all, really.

The thing was, it had been a long, long time since Sam had had anything like an actual friend – and good god that made him sound like a loser, he realised despairingly, but still couldn't deny the truth of it. There was Dean, of course, and throughout his life Dean had played pretty much every role imaginable (brother, parent, work partner, teacher, hero, responsibility) but he wasn't technically a _friend_. Sam was pretty sure you got to pick friends, and Dean was more obligatory than anything else.

There was Cas, he supposed, who maybe fit the definition a little better, particularly after the last few weeks. Although, that said, Sam had spent the first year or so of knowing him thinking the angel uptight and intimidating; a fellow soldier but not necessarily 'friend' material. And then, after that – well. It became increasingly obvious that Castiel was, first and foremost, _Dean's _'friend', and Sam just was _not_ going to interfere with that if someone paid him.

But then there was Gabriel, with whom he'd spent almost four hours just that afternoon doing nothing more than Googling every bit of geeky internet entertainment they could think of: YouTube virals and search-engine wars, web-comics and boredom sites like FML. Gabriel, upon discovering the latter, had promptly typed in, _'You think you guys got it bad? Today, I realised that one day soon my brother-in-law is going to be Dean Winchester. FML!1!'_ and Sam hadn't stopped laughing inappropriately for ten whole minutes.

It was almost a strange experience, sharing with someone else the idle pastimes Sam secretly amused himself with when no one else was around. In fact, it was the first time since Stanford he'd hung out with someone who, a) actually enjoyed the same things as him, b) wasn't a fellow hunter, or acquainted with him solely through Dean, and c) wasn't Dean. Truth was, he hadn't been lying to his brother when he'd confessed he and the archangel had somehow become friends over the past few weeks, and that was maybe the most pervasive thing about the whole stupid infatuation. He _liked _Gabriel, in every sense of the word, and apparently he really _was _open-minded enough for it not to matter all that much that Gabriel was a guy – which was, quite honestly, news to Sam.

He shivered slightly in the night time breeze and took a swig of beer. Frankly, the whole thing would be a lot easier if Gabriel just had his Grace back already. Ignoring, for a moment, the myriad of other problems, at least then Sam wouldn't have to harbour the vague paranoia that he'd only be serving as some sort of – what was it he'd called it? – angelic methadone or something.

There was a sudden commotion behind him, startling him from his thoughts, and Sam turned just in time to see Bobby appear on the porch holding Gabriel by the scruff of his collar. He shoved the sullen archangel in Sam's direction, growling, "Take your idjit and tell him to stay the hell outta my kitchen."

Resignedly, Sam took his idjit.

He reached out to grab Gabriel's sleeve as the archangel tripped towards him, too busy glaring over his shoulder to look where he was going. Bobby grunted sceptically and disappeared back inside, the slam of the front door closing on them ringing jarringly through the salvage yard.

"Well _he's_ just a regular ray of _sunshine_, isn't he?" Gabriel muttered, absently shaking Sam off and dropping down to sit next to him on the step.

"What did you do?"

The angel shrugged innocently. "I wanted pancakes."

"You have noidea how to cook pancakes," Sam pointed out, equally reasonable.

Gabriel made a _well duh! _hand gesture. "No, and I never will if I don't try, will I? The ability to make pancakes is a very important life skill if I'm going to be stuck like this, and I really don't feel he was particularly encouraging towards my efforts–"

"Oh god, you set something on fire, didn't you?" Despite himself, Sam barked laughter and shook his head. "You could have just asked, yanno. I'd have made you pancakes rather than risk Bobby's house burning to the ground."

"Well thanks, sweetheart." Gabriel grinned up at him obnoxiously, bumping their shoulders together. "You're a doll."

Sam sent him a narrow-eyed glance and said dryly, "Be that as it _may_, I'm nota 50's housewife, so if you could stop addressing me like one please...?"

Clearly amused, the archangel didn't respond but reached across to steal Sam's beer. Without a word, he finished it off in one go, tipping the bottle back. Sam watched with perhaps a little too much interest. In fact, he was so busy watching that it took him a moment or two to notice he'd been caught, and hurriedly cast his gaze out across the yard, flushing with mild embarrassment.

"...So Sammy." Gabriel sounded far too casual and unconcerned, which should probably have tipped Sam off to the fact that they were about to venture into hazardous territory.

He cleared his throat, still busy avoiding eye contact. "What's up?"

The archangel set the bottle down by his knee and twirled a hand in a contemplative gesture. "Just out of curiosity," he said slowly, "you maybe wanna give me a timeline on when you're finally gonna get around to jumping me?"

Sam promptly choked on nothing in particular. "...Wh-_what_?"

Gabriel shrugged like he was being perfectly reasonable. "Hey, don't get me wrong. I'm enjoying all this passive-aggressive, sexually-repressed foreplay as much as the next guy, but it is coming to an end soon, right?" When Sam only continued to stare at him incredulously, he blinked, hesitating. "...Right?"

"Gabriel!" Sam pulled away from him, mortified. "I'm not... I haven't just been playing hard to get or something! Why would you think that?" He really _hadn't_. Not... exactly.

The archangel just looked at him, deadpan. "You cannot be that dumb, kid."

Sam winced. Okay, stupid question. He was maybe just a little bit at fault here. Alarmed, he held his hands up. "Stop. Just... stop. This is a misunderstanding."

"What misunderstanding? Not to regress to fourteen year olds or anything, but you do like me, right?"

"Gabriel..."

_Yes _he liked the archangel, but he couldn't come out and _say_ it. He was abruptly frozen, mute. The last time... The last time had been _Jess_, for god's sake. There'd been no one since, no one that mattered, and he felt suddenly like he'd forgotten how to do this.

He ended up saying nothing at all, at a loss.

Gabriel's amused, inquisitive expression closed off gradually and he drew back, putting distance between them. "Oh." He looked genuinely surprised, blinking at Sam like he couldn't believe he'd miscalculated. "Oh. Well. My mistake, I guess..."

"Gabr–"

The archangel rose to his feet briskly and without his usual composure, accidentally knocking over the empty bottle with a clatter. They both jumped. Recovering himself, Gabriel jabbed a thumb over his shoulder towards the house. "Gonna go see a man about getting some pancakes. Talk to you later, Sammy."

Watching him disappear, Sam let out a quiet growl of frustration and covered his face with both hands. Sometimes... sometimes he just _sucked_.

xxx

Later, when Sam finally retired upstairs for the night to find his brother already sitting in bed rereading _Slaughterhouse 5 _(which, with Dean, might as well be the comfort equivalent of consuming a litre of ice cream and watching a soppy movie) Sam froze in the doorway. They stared at each other. Dean immediately narrowed his eyes, as though he knew straight away that something significant had happened just by taking a look at him. He opened his mouth like he was about to ask.

Before he could, Sam cut him off at the pass.

"So. You wanna talk about what happened with Cas?"

Green eyes widened fractionally, then hardened with annoyance. "...Not even a little bit."

"Right then."

Matter settled, Sam got into bed and turned out the light, immediately rolling over to face the wall. Dean grunted at him quietly from the darkness, sullen.


	14. Chapter 14

**Title**: For Love is Strong as Death

**Authoress**: Sakuri

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: Sam/Gabe, eventual Dean/Cas slash. Slight AU. Four months after the apocalypse that wasn't, Sam, Castiel and Gabriel are brought back to life at the same time and place, leaving Sam to deal with two suddenly human angels and the fact that he can never see his brother again...

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing and no one

xxx

When Crowley, having finished his 'business' dealings for the night, reappeared at Bobby's the next day to amuse himself checking in on things, he immediately narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the scene which greeted him.

Dean and Gabriel occupied the living room, sitting side by side on the couch in front of the television. That in itself gave him pause. As far as he could remember, the human and the archangel generally avoided sharing proximity at all feasible costs. Even now, neither of them looked particularly _happy _about the company they were keeping, for whatever reason. Puzzled, Crowley looked around for their other counterparts.

He quickly located the younger Winchester sitting on his own at the kitchen table. He had an open book in one hand and was stabbing viciously at a bowl of cardboard-like cereal with the other, shoulders hunched in the all too familiar manner that Crowley mentally translated as _Danger! Approach With Extreme Caution!_ Deciding that now was perhaps not the best time to test that particular warning sign, he prudently kept his distance.

Bobby moved about the kitchen behind Sam, washing up the remnants of breakfast. It said something about the general atmosphere in the house that the old hunter hadn't made one of his 'guests' do it. As the demon was considering this, Bobby turned and caught sight of him. Crowley immediately raised his eyebrows in silent demand to know what the hell had transpired in the relatively brief time he'd been gone. In turn, Bobby screwed up his face in scornful dismissal, obviously having no idea and no intention of finding out. The demon rolled his eyes in response, fully of the belief that even if the hunter had no personal interest in gossip himself, he should have learned by now that _Crowley_, at least, liked to keep abreast of things, and a little help in that area wouldn't exactly go amiss.

This entirely wordless argument might have continued on in the same manner, except Sam chose that moment to clear his throat loudly and pointedly. Crowley stilled, glancing down to find the human glaring darkly at him.

"What?" he snapped, more defensive than he'd intended. "The grown-ups were talking."

The glare intensified exponentially, and Crowley was abruptly reminded that the creature in front of him had once been able to kill things with its brain.

Discretion indeed being the better part of valour, he decided it was time to take his investigation over into the living room, where Dean and Gabriel were occupied in grumbling unconvincingly over who should get to hold the remote. He drifted closer, sliding his hands into the pockets of his blazer and rocking back on his heels as he came to a stop in front of them.

Eventually, and as if it cost him great effort, Dean raised his head to grudgingly acknowledge him. "What?"

"Coming from me this should carry great weight," he informed them blandly, gesturing between human and archangel. "But this, here? _Screams _of unholy alliance. What's the deal?"

"We came to the mutual realisation that our brothers _suck_," Gabriel replied without preamble, his tone almost conversational. He raised his fist in a show of cynical and ironic solidarity. Beside him, Dean pressed a knuckle hard against his temple as though physically pained.

Crowley slowly raised an eyebrow. "You don't say..." he said carefully. "For any specific reason or just on principle?"

Gabriel probably would have answered him, but Dean interrupted quickly. "We've agreed not to trade details on that, thanks."

"...Ah. Of course." God forbid anyone challenge a Winchester's formidable powers of denial. Time to change tactics if he wanted any real information on the marvellously intriguing situation he'd found himself abruptly in the middle of. "So where's Creeper Angel hiding himself, hm?"

Dean immediately shut down, folding his arms and shrugging sulkily, while Gabriel pointed uselessly in a random direction. "Try outside. He's always outside somewhere."

"Thanks ever so..." he muttered scathingly, before blinking out of existence and reappearing in the fresh air of the yard. It didn't take him long to locate Castiel. He was standing around one side of the house, his back braced against the wall with hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his jeans. He didn't acknowledge the demon as he drew closer, or when he came to a stop next to him. Crowley smiled to himself and extracted a packet of cigarettes from somewhere on his person, casually holding them out in offering. "Fancy a fag and a chat?"

It didn't go unnoticed that, when the angel finally deigned to glance across at him, his gaze lingered longer than strictly necessary on the proffered box of smokes before he finally turned his head away with frigid dignity. "No thank you."

He shrugged and lit one up for himself with a little surge of demonic power. "Suit yourself." Taking a satisfying drag, he eyed the other speculatively. As he watched, Castiel winced slightly and raised an automatic hand to his forehead. Crowley frowned. "Problem?"

The angel immediately halted the motion, rebuffing the concern. "I awoke with a headache this morning. It's nothing of importance."

The demon let it pass, unconcerned. There were things he wanted to talk about that were of far more interest. "So come on, angel. What's up with you and your boy?"

Castiel visibly stiffened, regarding him coldly. "Dean would take offence to you addressing him in that manner. He isn't a child."

Half amused, the demon snorted dismissively. "Yeah well, _Dean _generally takes offence to my mere existence, so nothing new there. And of course he's a child. He's human. They're all children compared to the likes of you and me."

Thoroughly scandalised now, the angel gave him an affronted look. "I'm nothing like you."

He grinned in response, sharp and slightly unpleasant. "Not in the details, no. But we're both _Old_, angel. We're _Other_."

Castiel remained silent, but he was still staring inquisitively back at Crowley, so he took that as permission to go on.

"Interacting with humans doesn't come naturally for us, you know. Might as well be learning a foreign language. And a new thing like you, only been bouncing round Earth for a year or two – well. No way you're fluent yet."

"...I don't understand," Castiel admitted reluctantly, shaking his head. "What are you saying?"

Crowley rolled his eyes and said with exaggerated clarity, "Whatever your argument with Winchester happens to be about, it's not outside the realms of possibility that something got lost in translation."

Blue eyes blinked at him. "You believe so?"

"Hey, I've always said that was one of the biggest problems with inter-species dating. The language barrier." He nodded seriously and somehow managed to keep a straight face, curious to see if the angel had quite mastered sarcasm yet.

Evidently he hadn't, since Castiel only gave him a considering look and murmured thoughtfully, "Perhaps..."

They lapsed into silence for a while after that, Castiel staring pensively skywards and Crowley lazily smoking next to him. At least now, the demon supposed smugly, dear Robert would have to give him credit for the minor act of altruism – even if, in actuality, it had been done mostly out of sheer boredom. Of course, it wasn't that he particularly sought approval from the older hunter – why would he? – it just turned out that continuously frustrating his expectations of him proved to have its own inherent entertainment value that Crowley had come to really quite enjoy. He smirked at the prospect.

Abruptly, there came the sound of the door opening around the front of the house, and they both turned to watch Bobby and Sam trudge off into the salvage yard, Sam hefting a tool bag and Bobby short-temperedly growling instructions as they went.

Crowley dropped his cigarette and scuffed it out with his shoe, reaching across to jab at Castiel insistently. "There you go, look at that. Now's your chance. Go fix it with your boy before he gets in a bad enough mood he starts trying to exorcise me again."

Castiel stared at him dubiously for long moments, before at last letting out a resigned sigh and squaring his shoulders. "Very well." He moved to walk past the demon, then hesitated and glanced back at him. "You've been... unusually helpful," he admitted grudgingly, which was probably about as close to a 'thanks' as he was going to get.

Crowley just shrugged. "I'm a helpful guy," he said bemusedly, as though he genuinely couldn't see why anyone ever thought otherwise.

xxx

Gabriel had stomped off upstairs as soon as Sam left – which Dean was just not going to analyse, _at all_ – so he was alone when Cas came to hover anxiously in the living room doorway. Typical. Dean mentally cursed and quickly tried to figure out the best course of action. Since running full-pelt in the opposite direction smacked just a little of cowardice, he resignedly decided he was going to have to brazen it out. They hadn't really seen each other since The Incident anyway, so just maybe he could get away with not having to talk about it at all if he played his cards right.

Of course, that line of thinking completely failed to take into account Castiel's infuriating tendency of wanting to face things head on.

The angel seemed to steel himself, and then crossed the room to stand determinedly in front of Dean. He clenched his jaw and didn't look up, pointedly turning the volume on the television higher.

"Dean. We need to talk."

He grunted and held up a hand. "Let's not, okay? I got the message loud and clear, no need to repeat it."

Castiel huffed breath and fidgeted a little, obviously agitated. He continued to stand there, showing no sign whatsoever of moving. The excruciating silence stretched on.

It didn't take long for Dean to snap.

"Dude, seriously, do I have something on my face or what?"

Taken aback, Castiel spared a moment to check, before answering honestly, "No."

"Then... Then just watch the freaking TV or something!"

The angel glanced over at the television, apparently not seeing the relevance. "The TV?"

"Yeah. Did I stammer?"

Equally frustrated, Castiel scowled. "Why do you keep asking me these meaningless questions?"

Momentarily rendered speechless, Dean stared up at him incredulously, before exploding, "Oh my god, you're _ruining _arguing for me, you know that?"

The angel stopped and squinted at him in confusion. "...This was an argument?"

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face in defeat. "Jesus Christ..." He heaved a heavy breath and forced himself to look directly at the other. "_What_. What is it?"

"I wish to speak with you about what occurred between us yesterday–"

"Cas. Honestly. Just forget about it, okay?" he snapped, swiftly losing the pretence of denial he'd been attempting to keep up so far. "I took a shot and got shot down. It happens. No big deal."

There was silence in response and Dean settled back into the couch cushions, sullenly satisfied. Least Castiel finally got the goddamn point. The last thing Dean wanted to hear was, "It's not you, it's me." From an _angel_, for fuck's sake...

"Dean."

Busy glaring at the TV, he grunted disinterestedly.

"D-_Dean_...!"

At that, he did glance up sharply, alarmed. To his complete bewilderment, it was to find Castiel starting to hunch over, a hand pressed to his chest. The angel's mouth worked soundlessly as he tried to drag in a breath. For a wild moment of utterly senseless terror, Dean was convinced the angel was having a heart attack.

In an instant, all hostility forgotten, he was on his feet just in time to catch Castiel around the waist as the angel's knees buckled.

"Cas? _Cas_! Fuck. What's wrong? What's happening?"

But Castiel was pushing at him, ineffectually trying to make him let go, all the while grimacing in obvious pain. "Dean. Stop. Step back."

Not listening in the slightest, he got one hand on Cas's jaw, frantically turning his face to look at him. His breath caught as he was met with wide blue eyes pinpricked by silver light. "Holy crap..."

Cas finally got a hand solidly on Dean's chest and shoved as hard as he could. The human went stumbling backwards, stunned, and Cas snarled after him, "Close your eyes and turn away!"

But Dean couldn't. He stared in helpless fascination as the angel practically doubled over, the silvery light in his eyes growing so bright it hurt to look at.

"Dean! I said close your eyes _right now_!"

At last, Dean took the hint. He threw up his arms with barely a split second to spare as the living room all but exploded. Blazing white light engulfed him. He heard Cas let out a cut-off scream, but it changed midway through into the all too familiar ear-splitting shock of sound that made his ears ring. Something nearby shattered. He flinched away, tripping over a couch cushion as the light and the noise disorientated him. As he went down, he made the mistake of letting his eyes flutter open. It hurt like hell, but for the most fleeting of moments he saw the same silhouette he'd seen back in the barn the night of his resurrection: Castiel's wings stretched high above him, splayed awkwardly across the ceiling.

And then, just as abruptly, it was over.

If not for the multiple agitated car alarms coming from the yard, Dean might have suspected he'd gone deaf in the sudden, overwhelming silence. Warily, blinking away retina burn that left him still seeing the vast outline of angel wings, Dean lowered his arms.

Castiel stood looking relatively unharmed, staring curiously at his own hand. The room, on the other hand, was in disarray. It looked like there was a small blast radius all around him. Books and papers had been swept messily into corners. Glass shards glittered in the carpet where a mirror and Dean's beer bottle had shattered.

Dean, half on and half off the couch, let himself slide numbly the rest of the way to the floor, staring up at the angel with something horribly like awe.

Castiel turned abruptly to look down at him, and Dean almost jumped in surprise. He hadn't realised how much of the trademark intensity had been missing from Cas's stare while he'd been without his Grace, until suddenly its full force was once again turned on him. "Dean. Are you alright?"

Dean opened his mouth to say something – possibly even something relevant – but didn't get the chance. The front door was thrown open as Sam and Bobby rushed inside, Bobby with a shotgun in hand and Sam with the demon-killing knife. The two hunters came to a somewhat confused halt, however, upon taking in the scene.

"We saw the light..." Sam said hesitantly, frowning a little.

Bobby just gaped. "What the _hell _did you two do to my house?"

Dean, from his position on the floor, pointed wordlessly at Castiel.

All three turned to stare at the angel. As they watched he shifted slightly, tilting his head for a second and then rolling his shoulders. Dean had the discomforting thought that he was readjusting his vessel the way most people readjusted their clothes. He wrinkled his nose in distaste and rose stiffly to his feet.

There was further movement at the doorway behind Bobby and Sam as, slowly, Crowley poked his head in after them. After confirming that the fireworks show was apparently over, he stepped more fully inside, muttering caustically, "Really? _No one _thought to tell me the angels were actually _ticking time bombs_? I could have been _killed_!"

"We lived in hope," Bobby told him, deadpan.

Neither Dean nor Castiel, however, acknowledged – or heard – the sideline commentary. Dean had yet to take his eyes off the angel. He coughed self-consciously, trying desperately to remove the awestruck expression he knew he was wearing. "You, uh... You back to normal then?"

Castiel tilted his head as though considering, and then without warning he was gone, a blast of wind sending up yet more debris. Dean stomach clenched anxiously at the disappearance, but he didn't have long to worry. A mere second later there was another snap of wings and Cas reappeared in front of him, much closer than he'd been originally. Dean flinched backwards, shocked.

"Woah. Guess I gotta start getting used to that again..." He hesitated, unsure exactly what the appropriate reaction was here. Looking across at Sam, his brother shrugged helplessly, equally at a loss. Realising he had to say _something_, Dean braced himself, plastered on a grin, and slapped the angel's shoulder in congratulations. It hurt his hand. "See! Didn't I tell you you'd be fine?"

Castiel frowned at him. "Actually, I believe you told me I'd be stuck as a human."

"...You seriously never let _anything _go, do you?"

For a moment, the situation threatened to devolve straight back into the argument they'd been in the middle of as if there'd never been an interruption. It probably would have done just that, except Sam suddenly let out a soft noise of realisation behind them. Dean turned just in time to see him dart towards the stairs, and thought he heard him say excitedly, "Gabriel!" before he thundered up them and was gone.

xxx

The angels' room upstairs was similarly ruined by the time Sam got there. He stopped in the doorway, quickly processing the sight of everything blasted to the very edges of the room, the window shattered, the laptop on the floor broken and sparking. His first reaction was to grin elatedly, because the scene of destruction surely couldn't mean anything else except that Gabriel had regained his powers, just like Cas.

Only the archangel wasn't actually there anymore.

The smile dropped gradually from his face as Sam took a few steps forward, his boots crunching on glass. He glanced around without any real expectation, absently kicking aside the smashed remains of his laptop. There came the flutter of wings behind him. He knew better than to think it was Gabriel.

"He's gone, isn't he?"

Castiel paused, then sighed. "I believe so, yes. I can't sense him nearby."

Sam's mouth twisted in a bitter smile and he ducked his head. Of course. Of course he was gone. What else had he expected to happen?

Gabriel had taken off as soon as he was able, just like Sam had always known he would.


	15. Chapter 15

**Title**: For Love is Strong as Death

**Authoress**: Sakuri

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: Sam/Gabe, eventual Dean/Cas slash. Slight AU. Four months after the apocalypse that wasn't, Sam, Castiel and Gabriel are brought back to life at the same time and place, leaving Sam to deal with two suddenly human angels and the fact that he can never see his brother again...

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing and no one

xxx

With the angels back to normal (one of them gone entirely) Sam had been half expecting to be back on the road by the next day at the latest. He could tell that Dean was starting to feel the familiar itch of restlessness in his bones (so was Sam, if he was going to be honest about it). But Bobby, having taken one look at the full extent of the damage done to his house by the angels' unexpected and miraculous recovery, had demanded in no uncertain terms that they stick around long enough to clean up their own damn mess.

Apparently the shockwave had been worse than they'd first thought, as for the last three days they'd been finding more and more bits and pieces that needed repairing wherever they looked; cracks running up walls, splits in the wooden flooring. It wouldn't be such a big deal except they'd realised that even minor flaws like those could well be disrupting the runes of warding and protection Bobby had inlaid into every square inch of the place. It all needed fixing, fast. And worse, if Sam wasn't mistaken Bobby was in genuine mourning for some of the books that had been inadvertently ripped or torn, so he really didn't feel like testing his temper by skipping out on the clean-up.

Currently, Sam was occupied in knocking out the last remnants of broken glass that still remained around the edges of one of the upstairs windows, in preparation for the new pane that would have to be put in. He could hear the distant rhythmic pounding of Dean with a hammer somewhere downstairs, violently broadcasting all the unresolved sexual frustration that Sam was desperately, desperately trying to ignore.

Castiel had disappeared without explanation for a day and a half after his recovery, presumably off taking care of Important Angel Business – but then, to everybody's mutual and unacknowledged surprise, he'd come back. Not to warn them of some new apocalyptic event, or inform them in his usual voice of doom about a hunt the next town over, but simply to hover about exactly as he'd been doing before. Still clad in his thrift store jeans and army jacket; still content to sit and read whatever book Sam had last recommended; still, for all intents and purposes, acting _human_. It was weird, frankly, and it seemed to be throwing Dean completely for a loop. His brother hadn't been this jittery around Cas since the days immediately after his resurrection.

The reinstated angel had even tried to help out with the repair work, under Sam's patient supervision. But after he'd misjudged his newly restored strength and promptly put a hammer straight through the floorboards, only creating yet more work for them, Dean had stepped in and furiously banned him from all and any further DIY attempts. Ever since, his brother had been stalking about the house sporting a low slung tool-belt as if it somehow made him the 'man' in his epic gay relationship with an angel. Sam _really_ wished there was someone around with whom he could share such observations and commiserate.

He sighed, examining his handiwork and deciding it would do for now. Running a hand through his hair, he glanced around the room, trying to figure out which problem to tackle next. Before he could make a decision, however, his phone vibrated in his pocket, ticklish against his hipbone. He fished it out and flipped it open, finding a text from an unrecognised number.

It read: _'Sorry I didn't let you know I was taking off. Had to stretch my wings sharpish. You know how it is. Went to Vegas. I'll bring you back something pretty next time I stop by. xo' _

It was the first word from Gabriel in over three days.

Sam stared at the message incredulously, reading it over a second time. He was pretty sure he'd just been blown off. By text. Affronted, he couldn't help but marvel that Gabriel had the sheer audacity to end whatever weird, tentative, nonexistent... _thing _they'd had by _text_.

He got halfway through typing out a reply that told the archangel exactly where he could go shove his 'something pretty', before belatedly realising he wasn't _actually _a woman scorned, no matter what Gabriel's dismissive tone implied.

After almost a full minute of indecision, he ended up shoving his phone back into his pocket without sending anything in return. If Gabriel wanted to play it like that, well fine. Sam could play too. After all, he knew by now that nothing could infuriate the archangel more than being thoroughly ignored.

For the next two hours he received increasingly frequent texts from the same unknown number, each one detailing some minor adventure in Vegas. After the seventh (which informed him that cheating at cards _was _indeed a lot easier with powers) he gave in and saved the number under Gabriel's name, but still didn't send out a reply.

After the eleventh, Dean asked short-temperedly who the hell was texting him so often.

Sam hesitated.

Immediately, his brother scowled and pointed a screwdriver at him authoritatively. "Tell Gabriel that if he's going to be enough of a _dick_ to ditch you like that, he can damn well leave you alone altogether."

"_Dean_..." For an utterly surreal moment, Sam felt all of twelve years old again, mortified and irritated, insisting to his brother that he was big enough to take care of himself, thanks. Dean had always been overprotective, but that it was happening now, over _Gabriel_, was maybe the most traumatising moment of Sam's life.

He shook it off and hurriedly made his excuses to leave, feeling Dean's disapproving stare on him all the way out of the room. It was good timing, at least, as on the way back upstairs his phone buzzed _yet again_. Frustrated, he dragged it out flipped it open.

'_Met a showgirl called Samantha,' _Gabriel's text read this time. _'Kinda reminded me of you. All big green eyes and a beauty spot freckle. Even let me call her Sammy. xoxo' _

He narrowed his eyes at the message, irrationally incensed. His plan to refuse all contact momentarily forgotten, he typed out with jerky movements, _'Nice of her. Personally, I always hated anyone calling me that.' _

He hit send and enjoyed a moment of spiteful satisfaction.

...And alright, yes, _fine_ – there was maybe a small chance Dean was right when he said Sam could be passive aggressive on occasion.

xxx

Gabriel frowned down at his phone. Well, he supposed, at least that had been the best reaction he'd received so far.

Though mostly because it was the _only _reaction so far...

xxx

Sam should have remembered that the archangel made getting what he wanted into an art form. Now that he'd successfully provoked Sam into first contact, it was as if he simply wasn't willing to go on being ignored.

The next day, in true trickster fashion, Gabriel made good on his offhand promise to gift Sam with something pretty by depositing a Las Vegan white tiger in Bobby's living room. ("Cat!" Dean had yelled in stunned fright, upon discovering the thing. "Really big cat!") Gabriel himself hadn't shown, although Sam had no doubt whatsoever that he was laughing himself silly over the whole debacle, wherever he was.

So, while Bobby despaired for the state of ridiculous chaos his life had become lately, Castiel took it upon himself to return Gabriel's 'present' to where it had come from. Sam had never before thought he'd have to witness their resident angel trying unsuccessfully to sneak up on a confused and singularly unimpressed adult tiger. It was one for the scrapbook, if nothing else.

'_What?' _Gabriel's protest of innocence read when Sam called him on it. '_I honestly thought you __**liked **__animals!' _

xxx

After returning the tiger to its rightful owners, Castiel reappeared in the living room to find Sam stretched out on the couch, his phone resting on his stomach and vibrating intermittently with incoming messages. The angel drifted closer, gesturing at the device.

"If you wish Gabriel to stop contacting you, why are you–"

"I tried putting it on silent," Sam interrupted him, sounding resigned. "Gabriel has powers again, remember. He made it play _Build Me Up Buttercup _until I willingly set it back to something audible." He continued to stare at the ceiling for a moment or two, and then added with wry respect, "And you should have seen what happened when I actually tried to turn it _off_..."

Castiel refrained from asking. Instead, as Sam reluctantly levered himself up into a sitting position, he moved to join the human on the couch, perching himself awkwardly. Sam eyed him sidelong.

"...I did not expect Gabriel to depart as he did," Castiel admitted at last, somewhat hesitantly. Approaching conversations with Sam, he'd learned, was comparatively a lot easier than with Dean, but it was still a process fraught with difficulties.

Sam snorted. "Why not? It's what he does, isn't it?"

"How do you mean?"

"You said it yourself. He runs from anything like responsibility or... or commitment. Shouldn't have expected it to be any different now."

Castiel frowned, surprised to feel a little surge of defensiveness on behalf of his absent brother. "You dismiss him too easily. Perhaps you were unaware, but Gabriel has never once taken his attention from you and Dean since the moment your true destinies became apparent, through all the years of your lives. He is hardly a stranger to committed causes."

Sam looked away, flustered, and Castiel continued.

"Gabriel, as far as he is able, runs from _pain_. And with that in mind – did something happen between you?"

"No," Sam said, too quickly, watching Castiel with a cagey expression.

Oddly enough, the angel remained unconvinced.

Before he could say as much, however, Sam's phone buzzed again. Sighing, he picked it up and read whatever new message it displayed. A smile tugged unwillingly at his mouth, but he made no comment and didn't share with Castiel the source of his amusement.

The angel regarded him gently. "He misses you."

Sam blinked. "Sorry?"

"Gabriel. He misses you, I imagine." His gaze drifted to the loose stuffing that spilled from one of the many new gashes in the couch, inflicted by the tiger before its departure. "Admittedly, he sometimes has... difficulty in communicating such sentiments."

Sam huffed laughter despite himself. "Yeah, no kidding." Then, sobering, he added, "Look. Nothing's stopping him from coming back, so..." He trailed off with a shrug.

Castiel just tipped his head. "Does he have reason to?"

The human flinched, and didn't answer.

xxx

Not as far away as Sam might imagine, Gabriel snapped his fingers and conjured up a peach daiquiri, idly wondering what his next move was going to be.

xxx

Dean was having a stressful day. His little brother was being stalked by an archangel with a psychotic sense of humour, and his own angel troubles didn't bear mentioning. The house was still blown to pieces; this morning he'd walked in on a _tiger_, for fuck's sake; and an hour ago Crowley had successfully abused his already frayed nerves so badly he'd turned and hurled a paint roller at the demon's head. His whole life, frankly, was rapidly becoming a circus.

Sam was on his way to bed when Dean finally cornered him. "Dude, _what the hell_? I warned you! Didn't I warn you about messing with a trickster?"

His brother let out a long-suffering breath. "I'm sorry, okay?" He started up the stairs, muttering over his shoulder. "It's not like I _expected _him to pullsomething like this. Believe it or not, I don't harbour some secret wish to see you get eaten by a Vegas star attraction..."

Dean followed him stubbornly. "What the fuck happened with the two of you? I can't even tell if this is him being mad at you, or his version of an apology!"

"Neither can I, really..." Sam admitted, frowning a little as he reached the landing.

"Well fix it, Sammy," Dean snapped, and opened the door to their room.

They both immediately stopped dead on the threshold, staring. All over the place were M&M's. Not bags of them, as one might expect, but a wild scatter of bright candy that looked as if it had been arranged by being dropped from a great height – except for the small fact that the mess was confined solely and pointedly to Sam's side of the room, as though an invisible barrier contained it.

Dean turned slowly towards him, looking thoroughly nonplussed. "You seriously couldn't just make a _normal _friend, could you...?"

xxx

Sam Winchester was swiftly becoming his obsession.

This wasn't a problem in and of itself. After all, it wasn't like Gabriel had ever done anything by halves. Moderation, he'd come to learn, was like a foreign language, in that you generally had to learn that shit while you were young. And Gabriel really hadn't.

No, what actually bothered him was that he couldn't quite get a grip on the _nature _of that obsession. In all honesty, he, too, was unable to quite decide if his actions were done as some kind of passive aggressive revenge for Sam's rejection, or in sheepish apology for his own hasty exit. He was simply reacting blindly; so ruled by fickle emotion he might as well still be human. It had infected him, like a contagion, and he wasn't completely certain there was a cure.

He sighed in exasperation, stretching himself more fully across the uncomfortable bed. Honestly, all those texts he'd sent to Sam had really made Vegas sound fun. So much so that Gabriel kind of wished he was actually there, and not hiding out in an unoccupied motel room about a mile out of Sioux Falls. Least then he could be having a good time while he was busy angsting...


	16. Chapter 16

**Title**: For Love is Strong as Death

**Authoress**: Sakuri

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: Sam/Gabe, eventual Dean/Cas slash. Slight AU. Four months after the apocalypse that wasn't, Sam, Castiel and Gabriel are brought back to life at the same time and place, leaving Sam to deal with two suddenly human angels and the fact that he can never see his brother again...

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing and no one

xxx

**Sakuri**: The chapter before this was posted while the site was having technical difficulties, and I'm not sure that everyone who's following this fic got to read it. Just a little word of warning to make sure no one accidentally skips it.

Enjoy!

xxx

Fearful of any further displays of Gabriel's attention raining down on them during the night, Dean had resolutely banished his brother to go sleep in another room, any other room. Then, swiping a handful of conveniently placed M&M's, he'd thrown himself down atop his own bed and proceeded to eat them one by one while he stared up at the ceiling, restless.

He was awake for maybe another hour, thoughts refusing to settle as he considered the remaining DIY jobs he'd have to tackle tomorrow; Sam and Gabriel; when they'd next be able to go hunting; whether that rattle in the Impala needed fixing; Sam and Gabriel. And when, finally, he did begin to drift off, annoyingly it didn't last long.

There was a quiet flutter in the darkness, and he opened his eyes to peer blurrily up at Castiel standing above him. He twitched in surprise, privately cursing the angel's creeper tendencies. Cas didn't say anything, just went right on staring, and after a while Dean turned his face pointedly away, dismissive. Honestly, he didn't want to be the guy who held grudges like this, who sulked and felt sorry for himself whenever things didn't go the way he'd pictured them – and he wouldn't be; he really wouldn't – but just for the moment he wasn't in any kind of mood to be reminded of what he couldn't have. His defences rose instinctively, muscles going tense as he prepared to drag himself up and walk away if Castiel wasn't going to.

But before he could do a damn thing, the mattress abruptly dipped as the angel wordlessly perched himself on the edge. And, to Dean's further astonishment, with movements stiff and hesitant, Castiel proceeded to lower himself even further until he was prostrate, lying right next to Dean on the too-small bed. Dean froze, utterly incredulous. For a few moments Castiel fidgeted restlessly, trying to find somewhere to place his hands. He at last settled for interlocking them carefully atop his stomach.

They were both silent for about a minute.

And then, "The hell? Not sure if you're aware or not, but you're kinda starting to send out mixed signals here, Cas."

"I apologise."

Dean waited for further comment, and when none came he sighed irritably. "You have no idea what mixed signals are, do you?"

"Not really, no."

"_Awesome_." Angrily, he started to sit up, but the angel halted him with a hand on his wrist.

"Be still, Dean. We need to talk."

"Not like _this_ we freaking don't!"

"_Dean_." And it was so completely unfair of Cas to trot out his Serious Business voice, which by now Dean practically had a pavlovian reaction to. Almost against his will, he stilled and waited anxiously. Clearly and precisely, Castiel said, "The reason I wouldn't allow you to kiss me is because I did not wish to lessen our relationship."

Privately, Dean marvelled at the ability to just come out and _say _shit like that. He sat up slightly, bracing his weight on one elbow and turning on his side to regard the other sceptically. "_Lessen_? Wait, are you... Are you actually giving me the 'We're Better As Friends' talk?"

"Dean, you're already more than a friend to me."

He blinked, taken aback. "I am?"

Castiel's expression promptly fell, much to Dean's bemused alarm. "You didn't know..." he murmured in disappointed realisation, looking off to one side. "It would seem Crowley was right in his judgement of my communication skills."

"...Crowley. You talked to _Crowley _about this."

The angel disregarded his nonplussed commentary, instead turning back towards him with a newly determined look on his face. "I want to tell you something."

Dean raised his eyebrows, by now so turned around he had no idea what to expect, and was half braced for almost anything. "Uhm. Okay?"

"When I was brought back, I did not believe you and I would meet again," Castiel said without preamble.

Dean immediately frowned, disliking the panicky feeling that that thought still caused in the pit of his stomach. He shook it off, trying to refocus on what was actually being said.

"At the time, Gabriel asked me what I would say to you if this were not the case – and I must confess, I've been remiss in not yet saying it."

Vague alarm bells were starting to go off somewhere in the back of Dean's head, and it was more an instinctive reaction than anything else to pull back and mutter in protest, "Cas, c'mon man, no chick-flick moments..."

It was probably fortunate that Cas knew him well enough by now to thoroughly ignore him. Instead, the angel raised a hand, the way he used to when he'd zap Dean through time and space at a moment's notice. Dean tracked the movement warily, half expectantly; but rather than the usual jab to the forehead, Castiel slowly settled his palm against Dean's side. The human twitched in surprise and then froze, horribly certain that Castiel could feel the nervous jackrabbit pace of his heartbeat, which only got worse as the angel pointedly ran his thumb along the line of one rib, where Dean knew Cas' handwritten Enochian sigils were carved into the very bones of him. "Set me as a seal–"

Dean drew a sharp breath. "Cas–"

"–upon thine heart." Refusing to let him pull away, the angel moved his hand again, sliding it up beneath the short sleeve of Dean's T-shirt and positioning it so that his fingers were lined up with the silvered handprint scar his Grace had once seared into human flesh. "Set me as a seal upon thine arm." He kept them like that for long moments, the contact too close, too personal, before slowly allowing his hand to slip back down Dean's arm and away. "For love is strong – _stronger_ – than death."

Dean stared down at him, wide-eyed and stunned into silence. He opened his mouth to say something, anything; but for the life of him couldn't think of what would be an appropriate response. He was _almost _certain that an angel had just confessed to being in love with him, and yet Castiel's expression remained open and completely free from expectation, not looking for reciprocation but merely having stated fact. It was mildly terrifying.

Finally, Dean managed to sheepishly mutter the only thing that came to mind. "...Dude, no Bible Camp moments, either."

And Cas just smiled beatifically, like he'd known all along Dean was going to say something painfully tactless in response.

xxx

In the next room over, Sam attempted in vain to muffle a groan of embarrassment with his pillow. He truly was doing his best not to listen to the low timbre of voices that drifted through the wall by his head (if only for his own precious peace of mind) but it was almost impossible to ignore entirely, and he had no doubt whatsoever that he was inadvertently overhearing something intensely private between his brother and the angel. He didn't even dare get up to flee downstairs, for fear of drawing attention to himself. Not to mention that doing so would probably bring a screeching halt to whatever emotional development was currently taking place next door, and Sam genuinely couldn't take another week of Dean and Cas dancing around their shared issues.

He was just going to have to suffer through.

But that, he figured, was no reason to suffer alone. Admitting defeat, he grabbed his phone from the nightstand and quickly typed out, _'Oh my god, I think I'm listening to Cas and Dean's epic love unfolding in the next room. It's cringe-worthy.' _

The reply from Gabriel came within seconds: _'Five bucks says Castiel's a screamer.' _

And really, Sam only had himself to blame for that particular mental scar.

xxx

Still lying propped up on one elbow, Dean regarded the angel in his bed and thought to himself that this really wasn't going the way he may once or twice have imagined it to. For one thing, considering the amount of pillow-talk they seemed to be having, there was a whole lot less making out than Dean was personally accustomed to.

He frowned as something else occurred to him. "So wait. Let me get this straight. You _wouldn't _kiss me because of... I mean... 'cause of all that stuff you just said about..." He cleared his throat gruffly. "...love. And stuff."

Castiel blinked earnestly up at him and nodded once in confirmation.

Dean floundered for a moment, feeling vaguely cheated, before hanging his head in defeat. "Man, you are just... _not _human."

"You were always aware of this."

"Yeah, well. I forget sometimes." He heaved a breath and tried not to sound like he was whining as he said, "Ah, Cas, c'mon! That's not how it works. The more you like someone, the more you're supposed to _want _to do that stuff!"

"Dean, I understand the human desire to participate in sexual intercourse. Gabriel explained–"

Dean cut him off with an aborted sound of horror. "Stop! Oh god, please stop talking. Look, _please _do me a favour. Whichever way this goes tonight, just... just never mention sex and your brother again in the same sentence, okay?" He shook his head mournfully, and then seemed to actually process what Castiel had been saying. "And what the hell? You actually took advice from _Gabriel_? Earth to Cas, he was probably _lying_!"

"How do you know?"

"Let's see. Was he saying _words_?"

They glared at each other, left at something of an impasse, until Castiel added, "I wasn't acting solely on Gabriel's advice, you realise. I've witnessed for myself your past behaviour towards sexual partners."

Offended, Dean shot him a look. "Hey, what's _that _supposed to mean?"

"You leave them," Castiel said bluntly.

"...Oh."

Which, okay, _true_ – but it wasn't like Dean did the whole cut and run routine in the middle of the night or something. He'd always been careful to make sure any girl he was with wasn't after more than he was offering. Alright fine, it wasn't like he'd ever claimed to be _classy_, but at least he was honest, damn it. Only...

Only this wasn't like that.

Cas wasn't some one-night-stand he'd found in a bar somewhere, and Dean wasn't just looking for a hook-up this time. Actually, he had no idea _what _he was looking for, in all honesty. Only that Cas was it. He'd had these kind of genuine... _feelings _(god forbid he use the word) a total of twice in his entire life, first for Cassie and then for Lisa, and twice it had ended in disaster as soon as they'd gotten to know him well enough. But Cas... Christ, Cas had already seen him at his worst – _literally _at the very worst he was ever going to be – and yet here he was, having just told Dean he loved him. It was overwhelming. It was, frankly, more than he deserved.

But in the end, Dean couldn't bring himself to say any of it. He'd never done well with words; not the ones that _meant _anything. That was Sam's gig. Dean tended to subscribe more to the philosophy that actions spoke louder.

"Cas–" He stopped, mortified by how rough his own voice sounded. Gathering himself, he tried again. "Cas. You trust me, right?"

The angel regarded him strangely. "Yes," he said, as though he couldn't fathom why Dean even had to ask.

Careful as he'd ever been with anything, Dean slowly shifted his weight, bracing himself to lean further over the other. Castiel watched him, tense and confused. No sudden movements, Dean told himself firmly, determined not to make the same mistake as the last time he'd tried something this stupid.

Once again, however, Cas started to turn his head away. "Dean–"

And it was maybe the most dangerous thing he'd ever done to bring a hand up and forcefully halt the motion. After all, Castiel had his powers back now; he could vaporise Dean with a thought, if the mood so struck him. And if asked, Dean would maintain that was totally the only reason his heart was pounding like he'd just finished a hunt.

He caught Castiel's gaze, refusing to let it turn aside. "Then _trust me_," he insisted desperately, and ducked his head to kiss the angel for the second time.

He kept it tentative, stilted; found it disorientating, for a second, to feel the sharp graze of stubble instead of a woman's glossed lipstick. It reminded him that Cas wasn't the only one experiencing a certain first time here, and a swift jolt of nerves made heat prickle excitedly across his skin. But once again Castiel didn't react in the slightest. He was too rigid, too inflexible wherever he came into contact with the human, as though not at all meant for this kind of intimate proximity. Dean stopped, drawing back just far enough to quirk a hopeful smile and nudge their noses together, trying his best to prompt a more positive response – _any _response – from the frozen angel.

Castiel's eyes were luminous blue even in the shadows of the room, wide and assessing and maybe just a little bit intrigued. He didn't say a word, but Dean could feel him deciding whether or not to let this continue. He held his breath, both of them waiting on the judgement.

And then, to Dean's genuine surprise, the angel relaxed incrementally beneath him. He tipped his head back in something like curious invitation, and Dean didn't hesitate to take it. He clenched one hand in the pillowcase beside Castiel's head, gently reached out to curl the other around the angel's hipbone, the rough texture of denim almost startling beneath his fingers. Cas twitched like he was ticklish, but allowed Dean to coax his mouth open as though accepting instructions, sharing breath back and forth between them. It was clumsy, and unrefined, and probably the best kiss Dean could remember.

"Me too," he mumbled breathlessly against the curve of the other's jaw, without having made a conscious decision to do so. "With the... the love stuff. Me too, okay?"

"Oh," Castiel said quietly, lips shaping the syllable against Dean's cheek, spoken like a revelation.

xxx

Sam hesitantly lifted the pillow he'd had jammed over his head for the past ten minutes. He couldn't hear anything this time, and for a moment he let himself indulge in sweeping relief. That, however, lasted only as long as it took him to realise that the profound and oddly suggestive silence from next door was about ten times worse than the low, intimate murmuring of a few moments ago. Furiously, he cursed the stupidly thin walls in Bobby's house.

His phone buzzed where it rested on his stomach, and he picked it up to read, _'What's happening now?' _

He rolled his eyes and sent back with a wince, _'It's gone quiet. I honestly don't want to KNOW what's happening now.' _

'_Give me a minute to grab my harp and halo and I'll come serenade them while they finally get it on.' _

Sam snorted, amused despite himself. _'Yeah, let's maybe hold off on the choir of angels for a while. Somehow I don't think Dean would appreciate your rendition of Barry White right now. Go back to your roulette tables.' _

Gabriel didn't text back, so Sam assumed he'd done just that. 

xxx

Eventually, Dean forced himself to pull away, made stupidly happy when Castiel strained after him for a moment. It was difficult, not to give in to that kind of wordless request; but after considering the state of confusion Cas had gone and gotten himself into over issues of love and sex, Dean reluctantly supposed that taking it slower than usual would probably prove the wiser course of action. He ducked his head to nose at the line of Cas's jaw one last time, and then grudgingly rolled away, stretching out onto his back and trying to suppress the insistent flare of heat low in his belly. Slow, he told himself yet again, like a mantra. Sure. No problem...

After a minute or so had drifted by, Castiel turned his head on the pillow to face him. "That was much more pleasant than last time," he acknowledged.

Dean closed his eyes and grinned helplessly. "Good. Glad you thought so." It was dumb, he knew, to feel so triumphant over finally vindicating himself to the other as a good kisser. Didn't stop him, though.


	17. Chapter 17

**Title**: For Love is Strong as Death

**Authoress**: Sakuri

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: Sam/Gabe, eventual Dean/Cas slash. Slight AU. Four months after the apocalypse that wasn't, Sam, Castiel and Gabriel are brought back to life at the same time and place, leaving Sam to deal with two suddenly human angels and the fact that he can never see his brother again...

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing and no one

xxx

**Sakuri**: This will be the last chapter of the actual story, I'm afraid. However, in a few days or so, I will be posting a chapter of 'Extra Scenes' (which will essentially be a small collection of funny drabbles/moments that take place in this 'verse and serve as an epilogue of sorts). So look out for those, and I hope you've all enjoyed! Thank you!

xxx

The thing about Dean was that he was fucking _annoying _when he was happy, in Sam's humble opinion. His brother had gone from proverbial thundercloud to positively _chipper_.

Sam had been unceremoniously awoken that morning by the strident tones of _Eye of the Tiger _coming from the bathroom, as Dean enthusiastically sung his way through a twenty minute shower. Exasperated, and thoroughly of the opinion that he'd already lost quite enough sleep due to his brother's love life, Sam had face-planted back into his pillow and slept in for another hour out of little but spite.

When he finally ventured down for breakfast, it was to find Castiel sitting at the kitchen table and Dean still whistling the same tune as he busied himself cooking French toast. Unbelievable, Sam thought with mild incredulity, stopping in the doorway to watch. Dean hadn't bothered to make anything more sophisticated than warmed-up leftover pizza in... longer than Sam could remember, frankly. Had he been in a slightly more generous mood, he might even have said it was sweet, that his brother was obviously pulling out all the stops to impress his new – boyfriend? Partner? Angelic significant other? As it was, however, Sam was irritable and unimpressed and the most he could summon was a resigned eye-roll as he moved to join them.

"Good morning, Sam," the angel greeted him pleasantly as he took a seat opposite.

Dean glanced over his shoulder. "Hey, you want some toast?"

He grunted something vaguely affirmative and Dean resumed whistling, seemingly quite happy to perform the mundane task of making breakfast. Sam supposed it was a novelty for him, of sorts. So, as he sat there yawning his way back to full consciousness, the sound and smell of sizzling butter filled the room around him, and his brother's good mood seemed almost contagious. Sam _really _wanted to go on finding it grating, but, against his will, the unfocused sense of irritation he'd woken up with gradually slipped away.

Eventually Dean turned and set down a plate of stacked French toast in front of the angel with a flourish. "There you go, try that. Do yours in a sec, Sammy."

Sam smirked, amused beyond reason to see his brother playing domestic goddess. He debated asking if this was going to be a more permanent fixture, now that Dean was apparently one half of a married couple.

Cas, meanwhile, studied the food he'd been presented with in fascination. Dean, in turn, watched with visible expectation, clearly not intending to move until he'd witnessed a reaction of some kind. Sam rolled his eyes again, but even he found himself slightly curious. After a moment or so, the angel picked up a piece of the toast and ever so carefully bit off a corner, chewing thoughtfully. Dean practically held his breath.

At last, Castiel nodded once, so seriously he might as well have been passing divine judgement. "It's very good. Thank you, Dean."

"Better than the burgers?"

"Much better."

Dean grinned blindingly. "Hell yes, told you I'm awesome." He turned back to the frying pan with such obvious triumph that Sam had to smother a laugh.

His mirth was short-lived, though, as Crowley chose that moment to blink into existence in the chair right next to Sam, making the human jerk away from him in such surprise that he very nearly overturned his own chair.

"God, don't _do _that!"

The demon ignored him, didn't even seem to hear him, eyes drawn instead to the plate in front of Cas. He rubbed his hands together briskly. "Looks good, boys. Where do I place my order?"

At the stove, Dean let out a bark of sceptical laughter and turned to point a spatula sternly in their direction. "Dream on, demon. You think you're eating my food, you can think again."

"What? Why?"

Dean shrugged, widening his eyes innocently. "Call me crazy, I don't cook for the soulless."

"That's highly discriminatory, I hope you realise," the demon informed him snidely.

"Yeah, well, bite me."

Crowley scowled, tapping his fingers in annoyance against the tabletop. Sam had no doubt he was busy thinking up some sharp retort that would immediately put Dean's back up, but before he could say a word, Castiel abruptly slid his plate over towards the demon. "You may try some of mine, if you wish."

Sam performed something of a double-take, staring incredulously at the angel.

Crowley, too, seemed equally taken aback. "I can?"

"I believe I... owe you," Castiel said with dignity. "For your advice. It proved much more helpful than I had imagined."

The demon blinked, and then chuckled with genuine amusement. "My hard-earned wisdom for a bite of Winchester's mangled attempt at fine dining. Well, that certainly sounds like a fair trade." Despite the sarcasm, he wasted no time in accepting the offer, swiftly sliding the plate over the rest of the way. "Fine, fine. We're square, angel."

Dean turned and started to hand a second plate of toast over to Sam, but stopped when he spotted the swap that had occurred. "What the hell? That's not–"

Before he could voice protest, the demon hurriedly crammed a larger than necessary bite into his mouth and chewed smugly.

Dean glared at him, unimpressed. "Fuck's sake..." Breakfast promptly swerved away from Sam and was irritably placed in front of Cas again, along with the instruction, "Don't give it away this time."

Crowley scoffed, and mumbled through his mouthful of food, "Oh, that has_ got _to be the first time he's ever given _that_ advice."

Caught by surprise, Sam almost ruptured something in his effort not to laugh, especially given the thunderous expression that came over his brother's face at the comment. Once again the spatula was brandished at them in wordless warning.

There came the sound of heavy footsteps descending the stairs overhead, and a moment later Bobby ambled in, immediately raising his eyebrows at the sight of them all. "Well ain't this just cosy..." He headed straight for the coffee pot, edging past Dean with a smirk. "Might still have one of Karen's old pinafores if you wanna borrow it, Dean."

"Oh, funny man," his brother grumbled. "You want something while I'm slaving over this hot stove?"

The old hunter snorted, pouring his coffee black. "Not if it's that pansy-ass toast you're offering. We got any bacon?"

Dean grunted appreciatively. "Man after my own heart, Bobby. Pull up a chair, I'll see what I can do."

Sam smiled to himself, glancing around at the rather mismatched group that occupied the room. This wasn't at all where he'd imagined he'd ever be as little as six months ago, when the apocalypse had been bearing down on them and everyone at this table had been some kind of soldier, spy or traitor. It was kind of nice, if unprecedented, to watch Bobby automatically place a second mug of coffee in front of the demon as he passed (which Crowley promptly spiked with a hipflask); or to see Dean lean over Cas's shoulder and pinch food from his plate, unrepentant when the angel frowned up at him.

But after a second or two the smile dropped slowly from Sam's face, as the realisation struck that this bid they were apparently making to play happy families wasn't yet complete. They were noticeably short one person. His hand went instinctively to the phone in his pocket, but he hesitated before he could pull it out. This, he imagined, wasn't going to be a conversation he wanted witnesses for.

He got to his feet. "I'll be back in a minute. Save me some toast, okay?" And with that he turned and ducked out of the room, his brother's voice drifting after him.

"Don't be long, bitch. I re-heat for no one!"

xxx

Standing in the middle of his room upstairs, Sam chewed his lip in indecision, and then suddenly hit send on a text that read simply, _'Come back.' _

He waited. A minute passed, and then two. Still there was no flutter of wings; no flashy entrance; not even a reply to his phone. Sighing, he tried again.

'_Seriously, Dean's cooking breakfast for us all and there's some kind of group-gathering in the kitchen. I think we're having a collective Moment. You should be here to ridicule it.' _

He wandered over to the recently repaired window and peered out at the salvage yard while he waited. His phone remained conspicuously silent, despite the fact that Gabriel usually made a habit of responding within seconds. After another few minutes, Sam rubbed his forehead tiredly. He should have known the archangel would be stubborn enough to make him spell it out.

Exasperated, he typed out hurriedly, _'I'm sorry I didn't say I liked you back, okay? I froze when you asked me. Just get back here, I need to talk to you.' _

He watched as the little digital envelope onscreen sailed away, too late to hit cancel, and had just enough time to begin questioning the wisdom of such a message when suddenly there was a sharp _crack! _of sound right behind him, so loud he ducked on instinct.

"I _knew _it!"

Whirling around, it was to find Gabriel wielding his own cell phone in grim victory. "I _knew _I didn't get my wires crossed!"

Sam clapped a hand over his pounding heart, swearing in fright. "Hello to you too..." he muttered pointedly.

Gabriel ignored him, too busy gesturing angrily. "You, Sam Winchester, make _everything _complicated."

"Wh– Excuse me? _I _make things complicated?" He put his hands on his hips, nonplussed. "Really. That's what you're going with."

The archangel shrugged. "Well, if I recall correctly, only _one _of us had the decency to be upfront." He waved his phone. "Oh, and look at that. I happen to have it in writing that it wasn't _you_."

Sam knew he shouldn't have started this conversation by text. Damn it.

"_You're _the one who skipped out of here at the first opportunity," he shot back defensively. Then, suddenly incredulous, "To _Vegas_! Have fun, I hope?"

The archangel glanced off to one side, oddly evasive. "Probably not as much as you're thinking..."

Sam sighed. "Look, whatever. Forget it." He raised his hands, running them through his hair in a calming gesture. Easy as it would be to let this devolve into an argument worthy of ten year olds, that wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind. "Gabriel..."

But the archangel was busy studying the last text Sam had sent to him, and seemed to have decided further explanation was unnecessary. He motioned to it inquisitively. "I suppose I'm to understand from this that you've, what, had a change of heart?"

A little embarrassed, Sam stared off into the middle-distance and muttered, "It wasn't exactly a change of heart..."

The archangel cupped a hand to his ear. "What was that, sorry?"

"It wasn't a change of heart! I like you, okay? I liked you when you asked me." He pinched the bridge of his nose and snorted humourlessly. "God knows why. You're immature and obnoxious and... and really fucking annoying!"

Dry as dust, Gabriel purred, "Well you just know _all _the tricks to sweep a guy off his feet, don't you?"

Sam felt himself colour slightly at the mild reprimand. But hell, wasn't like he was lying. "Just thought I should let you know," he said, with as much dignity as he could still muster.

The archangel huffed, apparently offended. "Yeah, thanks for that." Hands in his pockets, he raised his eyebrows impatiently. "That it, then? We're done with this conversation, right?"

Sam's stomach dropped unpleasantly at the other's unimpressed tone. Abruptly, the conviction came upon him how stupid it had been, calling Gabriel here for this: stupid to think he was still interested. Maybe even stupid to think that had ever been the case in the first place. After all, Sam was damaged goods at best, and it wasn't like Gabriel was stuck for options anymore.

Unnerved, confidence vanished, he looked away. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess we are..."

"Just checking." He nodded unhurriedly, allowing awkward silence to descend tense and heavy between them, before adding like an afterthought, "So... why exactly aren't we making out yet?"

For a few seconds Sam didn't react, not entirely sure he'd heard that correctly. When he did at last turn to look back at the archangel, it was to see the slow slide of a smirk and golden eyes alight with mischief. All the breath left him in a rush. "You're such a _dick_...!"

Gabriel practically preened. "You like it."

And yeah. He did, kinda.

Fuelled by exhilaration and still-lingering annoyance (something that had become an almost permanent state of being around Gabriel) he moved forward and didn't let himself hesitate when he got close enough to fist a hand in the archangel's shirt and haul him into a kiss. Gabriel came easily enough, not even a twinge of resistance. In fact, he laughed delightedly right into Sam's mouth, which was probably just about fitting for the first time they did this, and had to stand on tiptoes while the human stooped to reach him properly.

"You're too short," Sam complained, grinning like it was an endearment.

He should have known better, really.

Before he'd even finished speaking, the archangel planted hands on his shoulders and fucking _jumped_. Sam caught him on nothing but instinct, staggering a little as he unexpectedly found himself with an armful of archangel. There were legs wrapped around his hips and one sneaker digging into the back of his thigh, and it had never been more apparent that he was in over his head here.

"What?" Gabriel said, all innocence. "I am _perfectly _willing to climb you like a tree if I have to."

Sam blinked, stunned momentarily wordless by that particular phrasing. At last he managed to rasp a weak, "...Good to know," and then they were kissing again.

It was almost a shock to find the archangel still loose-limbed and heavy, seemingly unchanged by the restoration of his Grace. Sam revelled in it, turning them towards the nearest wall without any pretence of coordination, shoving Gabriel up against it to better hold him in place. Generally, this wasn't at all the type of behaviour he considered appropriate for a first kiss – but god, what about Gabriel was _ever _appropriate? Sam figured he'd have to come to terms with that sooner or later, and there was really no time like the present...

Too late he heard the floorboard creak out in the hall, his brother's short-tempered yell, "Sammy, get your ass back downstairs, food's getting cold!"

Before he had time to so much as claw back higher brain function (never mind do anything about their position) the door opened and Dean poked his head inside with his usual disregard for privacy.

"You hear m– Fuck, _fuck_, _**my eyes**__! _Oh my _god_, what the _hell_, Sam? _Put him down_!"

xxx

Downstairs, at various points around the kitchen, Crowley, Castiel and Bobby all raised their eyes to the ceiling as a succession of dull thuds and the muffled sound of Dean's screaming filtered down through the house.

"...Great," Bobby drawled after a prolonged moment or two, turning to scowl at the angel like he was personally at fault. "Sounds like the other idjit's back."

"Oh good, he owes me money," Crowley commented mildly.

Castiel just smiled, relieved.


	18. Extra Scenes

**Title**: For Love is Strong as Death

**Authoress**: Sakuri

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: Sam/Gabe, eventual Dean/Cas slash. Slight AU. Four months after the apocalypse that wasn't, Sam, Castiel and Gabriel are brought back to life at the same time and place, leaving Sam to deal with two suddenly human angels and the fact that he can never see his brother again...

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing and no one

xxx

**Sakuri**: Nothing special, but to finish I just wanted to give a glimpse into their established relationships, so here are an assortment of small scenes which take place after the events of the story. Enjoy.

xxx

Dean experienced a moment of insight into exactly how surreal everyday life had become when he walked into the kitchen one afternoon to find Gabriel, Cas and Crowley playing poker at the table. Crowley seemed to be teaching Gabriel how to cheat without the benefit of powers (presumably in case the whole debacle or something similar ever happened again) by demonstrating the tricks of counting cards and slight of hand, while both of them tried to teach Cas how to bluff convincingly. Dean, having witnessed Castiel's few attempts at lying in the past, could have told them right off the bat that it was a wasted effort.

Looking up from his game, Gabriel winked at him in casual greeting as he passed. He scowled back on general principle and went to get a soda from the fridge. Sam was already hovering there, watching the spectacle with a mildly worried frown.

"Shouldn't you maybe... go rescue him or something? Those two are sharks."

"Who, Cas?" Dean snorted dismissively, popping the tab on his drink. "Why? Let him play, if he wants to. Not like he's got any money to _lose_, is it?"

Sam shrugged uncertainly, and Castiel chose that moment to turn in his seat and inquire of them, "What's the difference between regular poker and strip poker?"

Dean promptly inhaled half a can of soda, almost dying yet another ignoble death that was _all Gabriel's fault_.

xxx

They were all packed up and finally ready to hit the road, get themselves out of Bobby's hair and back to the hunt – and instead Sam found himself standing alone by the Impala, wondering incredulously where the hell his brother had disappeared to. He'd already rang Dean's phone twice, to no avail, and now, having no doubt whatsoever that Dean had gotten distracted in making out with an angel somewhere, Sam irritably typed in Castiel's number and hit dial. After a second or two, though, it sent him to voicemail, and he waited resignedly to hear Cas's latest mangled attempt at a recorded message.

Unexpectedly, his brother's voice greeted him.

"_Hey, you've reached Castiel's voicemail. He's too busy with Important Angel Business right now, but leave your name and number after the beep and he may or may not get back to you."_

Sam waited impatiently for a beep.

It didn't come.

Instead, Dean's voice continued.

"_See, Cas, how hard was that? You just keep calm and talk. Don't let technology intimidate you, man." _

"_Dean–"_

"_I mean, you've totally mastered computers now, right? This should be–"_

"_**Dean**__. I don't believe you ended the recording correctly." _

"_Oh shi–" BEEP!_

Sam rolled his eyes so hard he potentially strained something. "Oh my god, you two are made for each other," he said into the phone, and hung up.

xxx

Completely unhelpful, Gabriel slouched about watching Sam gather up their things from the motel room floor, shoving clothes and books and snacks into a duffel bag as they prepared to move on. He wanted the human to get a move on already, so they could get out to the car before the other two and he could accidentally on purpose let Dean catch him with his tongue down Sam's throat. It was always a good way to start the morning, he'd found.

"Come _ooonn_ already. Hurry it up, babe."

Sam promptly froze, straightening up from where he was collecting the mess of candy wrappers by the bed. "Did you just call me '_babe_'? Dude, you're way too short to be calling me '_babe_'." Snorting dismissively, he threw one of the wrappers in the archangel's direction and went back to his task.

Gabriel, however, shot him a look, eyes immediately bright with defiance. "Well if you're sure about it, sweet-cheeks."

Sam stopped again, turning around with eyebrows raised towards his hairline. "Yeah, that's not gonna work for me either."

"How about baby-cakes? Or honey-bunch? Ooh, _snicker-doodle_!"

Expression increasingly horrified, Sam practically recoiled. "Oh my god, you're kidding with this, right?"

"What, too flippant? ...Light-of-my-life?"

"Alright, _fine_! Jesus, you can say 'babe' if you really fucking must. Just don't let Dean hear you..."

The archangel smirked, sauntering for the door with a playful swat to Sam's ass as he passed. "Nah. Think you were right to encourage my creativity. Now move it, sugar-pants, I wanna go mess with the radio so it only plays Justin Bieber when your brother turns it on."

xxx

Dean walked into the motel room and threw something at Sam's head. "Hey, look what I found down the back of the car seats."

Disgruntled, Sam fumbled to catch what turned out to be a DVD case, emblazoned with the title _Casa Erotica_. He scowled, his first reaction to snap at Dean to keep his porn to himself, before memory belatedly struck.

He was holding Gabriel's goodbye message. His suicide note. He hadn't even realised they'd kept it.

"...Huh."

Dean rolled his eyes, exasperated. "I didn't give it you to angst over, dude." He shook his head and sighed with something very close to wistfulness. "Swear to god, Sammy, of the two of us? Never saw _you _being the one to date a pornstar..."

Sam blinked, a little poleaxed by the truth of that observation, and Dean's laughter rang in his ears for the next five minutes.

xxx

"You staying tonight?"

Unruly spikes of black hair grazed the underside of Dean's chin as Cas settled himself more comfortably against his shoulder. It wasn't _technically _cuddling, he told himself yet again. He was just helping the angel get used to the whole physical contact thing, was all.

"Where else would I go?" Cas said against his collar bone, one hand drifting curiously across the slight softness of Dean's stomach (and alright, maybe he'd already totally mastered physical contact, which meant Dean was going to have to come up with a new excuse for all the not-cuddling they were doing these days).

He huffed. "Yeah, but are you actually gonna go to _sleep _this time, or spend the night staring creepily – which I _know _you do, by the way."

"Angels can't sleep, Dean."

"Can't or don't need to?"

Cas went silent, as though thinking over the small distinction. He had one bony knee digging in to Dean's thigh beneath the covers, and they fidgeted for a while until all limbs were acceptably arranged.

"I find it... difficult, as an angel," Cas said at last, "to relax sufficiently. We're vigilant, by nature. To fall asleep..."

He trailed off, unable to explain properly, but Dean thought he got it anyway. To sleep was to give up control for a few hours, to be vulnerable. He frowned up at the motel ceiling, idly scritching his nails across the tense set of the other's shoulders.

"I do miss it, sometimes," Castiel admitted quietly, like it was some secret confession. "The dreams were often very pleasant."

Dean sighed, and knew even before he'd said anything that he was about to hand over the very last of his manly credibility. Aiming for casual, he muttered, "You can, uh... You can try, if you like. To sleep, I mean. I'll take a turn staying awake."

Castiel didn't say anything, just curled his fingers tighter around the curve of Dean's ribs. The minutes passed by slowly and Dean yawned a couple of times but didn't let himself drift off, gently tapping out a tuneless rhythm against the angel's spine. He wasn't exactly a stranger to taking the night-shift with their line of work, so it was easy enough to mentally recount lyrics and map out their route for tomorrow in an effort to stay awake.

Over half an hour had gone by when he finally felt Cas's breathing get slow and steady, the weight of him somehow heavier. He pressed a self-deprecating smirk into the messy tufts of dark hair, despairing for his lost masculinity a little bit, and resignedly prepared himself to spend the night keeping vigil over a sleeping angel.

xxx

It was early morning and Sam was still mostly asleep, basking in the comfort of clean sheets and the summer sunshine that streamed through the motel window. Gabriel was a pleasant weight sprawled across his chest, warm and invasive and clinging.

"Sam. Hey, Sammy. Wake up, I need to tell you something."

So much for a late lie-in. He frowned sleepily, managing to crack one eye open. "Nhg. Wha? What's wrong?"

The archangel's face came to hover over his own, amber eyes wide and earnest above him. "It's important, okay? You listening?"

A yawn escaped him. "Yeah, sure, what is it...?"

Gabriel beamed and pressed a kiss above his eyebrow. "Sam... We're going to have an egg."

Well _that _woke him, at least.

As soon as he figured out exactly what Gabriel meant by 'egg', Sam almost fell off the bed in his desperate, instinctive scramble away from the archangel. He staggered to his feet, dragging the sheets with him to wrap clumsily around his waist, and stood there wild eyed and uncomprehending. "What? You're– _What_?"

Gabriel picked himself up from where Sam had unceremoniously dropped him, moving to sit cross-legged in the middle of the bed. He gently laid one hand over his lower stomach, wearing an expression that was beautifully, utterly serene – and that, ultimately, was what tipped Sam off.

"...You're fucking with me, aren't you? You absolute _fucker_, I don't _believe _you!"

Gabriel immediately threw back his head and laughed uproariously, not even bothering to keep up the pretence in the face of Sam's thunderous incredulity. "Oh man! Best. Wake-up call. _Ever_." He grinned unrepentantly and offered in a confidential whisper, "Aaw, Sammy – _that's not how babies are born_!"

Sam groaned as all the adrenaline left him. He moved to sit himself on the edge of the bed, burying his face in his hands. "Jesus Christ. You couldn't just wake me up with _sex_?"

Gabriel chuckled some more and came to kneel behind him, sliding arms around his neck like it was his personal right. "Yeah, we're so doing that in a minute, don't worry. But wait, it totally gets better."

Sam winced and braced himself, having no trust whatsoever in Gabriel's definition of 'better'.

And sure enough: "I may have convinced Castiel to say the same thing to your brother."

"Oh, _god_..."

"No, c'mon, it'll be awesome. You've seen his poker face, he'll have Dean buying it in–"

As if on cue, there was a muffled exclamation from next door, followed by an ominous silence. Exasperated, Sam rubbed his temple as Gabriel laughed hysterically against his shoulder blade, the vibrations ticklish right through him. He twitched away, only to have nimble fingertips drag across his ribs in a more determined effort to tickle him, until he had to grab and hold them still.

They waited, still listening for further movement from next door, but when nothing more could be heard (no outraged cry or relieved cursing as Dean realised he'd been had) the archangel slowly sat up a little straighter.

"Huh. You think maybe I should have, yanno... _spelled it out _to Castiel that he was then supposed to say, 'I'm joking'...?"

Sam covered his face with his hands again, mostly to hide the grin that broke out against his will.

xxx

It disturbed the little bubble of peace that Crowley had found for himself these days whenever the Winchesters and their respective angels took it into their heads that they were due another visit with Robert. The roar of that hideously oversized car was usually the only warning provided, and then they'd descend: hauling in bags of laundry that needed doing, bickering already like it was their default setting, angels appearing out of nowhere without so much as a by-your-leave. It set Crowley's nerves right on edge.

Worse than the arrival, though, was enduring the visit itself. As a demon, chaos was pretty much his stock in trade, but some people just didn't seem to understand that there was a _time _and a _place_, thank you very much. Bobby's house wasn't exactly The Ritz to begin with. So far Crowley had decided to deem it 'quaint' rather than 'hovel', but _honestly_, even when he tried there was only so far he could push that delusion while he was being forced to live with savages. They were a bloody invasion, all four of them, loud and restless and always _touching _things, leaving mess behind them like a by-product.

More than anything, though, they were all so sodding _young_. The angels, he knew logically, had to be older than himself, but they didn't act it: Castiel with his sickening displays of innocence, Gabriel irreverent and juvenile. And always, _always_, at least one of the four was deep in the midst of some emotional turmoil or another. Maybe Crowley was just getting old, but having them around generally left him _exhausted_. They'd gotten worse, he was privately convinced, since the first time they'd all gathered here together. Only after they'd pack up that behemoth they called a car and speed off into the proverbial sunset again would he be able to relax, things returning to what had become his status quo.

At the very least, he supposed tiredly, such episodes made him newly grateful that he and Robert shared a much more... _mature_ coexistence.

Currently, he eyed the chessboard in front of him, noticing that his own black king was in danger of being checkmated in the next couple of moves. Slyly, he reached out to nudge a critically placed white bishop over a few squares to where it would no longer pose a threat.

Before he could, there was an alarming _sh-sh! _sound and a stinging sensation spread across his outstretched hand.

"Ow, _ow_ – bloody hell!"

He turned incredulously to find Bobby glaring at him, holding a spray bottle full of clear liquid which had, if Crowley wasn't mistaken, a crucifix floating in it.

"Hands to yourself, Hellspawn. No cheating."

"But–"

"Don't make me holy-spray you again."

xxx

The day that Gabriel turned the Impala a shade of sherbet-lemon yellow (pink being too cliché) Sam honestly thought Dean was going to get out and cry by the side of the road.

As it was, he very nearly drove them all into oncoming traffic instead, voice ringing shrilly out of the open window, "What did you do? What the _fuck _did you _do_?"

In the backseat, Gabriel shrugged. "What? I just thought we could benefit from a little change of scenery–"

"_Change it back_!"

Castiel frowned across at him as well, using a particular expression that was clearly modelled on Sam's bitchface. Gabriel rolled his eyes and ignored him.

"You want another colour? Say the word, Deano." The archangel drummed his fingers against the door panel, and with each beat the exterior of the car flashed through a spectrum of other visually offensive hues.

For a long moment, Dean actually couldn't seem to catch his breath, positively overcome with indignation as he stared out at the turquoise monstrosity he was now driving. "...Stop _violating _my baby, you son of a bitch!"

Gabriel chuckled. "Man, you don't even get this upset when I'm violating your _brother_–"

"O-_kay_!" Sam held up his hands, slightly alarmed by the crazed look his brother was beginning to develop. "Gabriel, knock it off."

"Why? What's the big deal?"

Castiel leaned towards him. "I've been told emphatically that 'driver picks the music'. I would assume the same principle applies to the colour."

Dean grunted. "Yeah. What Cas said."

The archangel made a _pfft _sound, but relented with a snap of his fingers and the Impala returned to sleek black. "You're such a suck-up..." he muttered to his brother, sulking.

Castiel didn't seem particularly concerned by the insult. He stared back blandly for a second or two, before returning his attention to the ever-present book in his lap.

"Yanno what, I hope you're happy," Dean snapped up front, shooting a glare across at Sam. "_That_, back there? Is supposed to be _your _responsibility, dude. Only reason I let him in the damn car!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "What exactly do you expect me to do?"

"Hell if I know. But if he fucks with the Impala again, he can damn well fly the rest of the way."

Sam made a gesture of concession just as there was another finger-snap behind them, quickly followed by Cas's indignant, "Gabriel, bring back my book."

"Dunno what you're talking about, bro."

"Gabriel!"

Finally losing his temper, Dean made an impotent strangling gesture in midair, bounced his palms off the steering wheel and then twisted around in his seat. He floundered for a moment, like he couldn't decide what to yell, before eventually resorting to tradition. "Don't fucking _make _me come back there!"

And suddenly Sam was laughing, even as he leaned across to grab the wheel and correct their swerve into the next lane. Dean gave him a look like he was crazy, but he couldn't help it. All the memories they'd made in this car, all the unlikely passengers it had carried in its time, and this was still the most ridiculous family road-trip he'd ever been a part of.


End file.
